Mr and Mr Xavier
by WingedWolf121
Summary: They are the world's deadliest assassins. Their identities are a secret...even from each other. But their rival companies are clashing, and secrets cannot be kept forever. Especially between husbands. Vaguely based off "Mr and Mrs Smith" Charles/Erik
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Um. I clearly don't want to pass Geometry or chemistry, since I'm writing this rather than studying. But while procrastinating I saw this trailer on you tube where they matched the "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" trailer to XMFC and boom! Story was born. Plus there are a bunch of clips on you tube where James McAvoy shoots people (I've never actually seen Wanted, but I think that's where they're from), so there's helpful inspiration all over**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MARVEL (duuuuh), nor do I own the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith off which this was vaguely based. I've never even see that movie, just snippets.**

**6 am.**

"Darling, wake up." Erik grunted. A hand touched his shoulder. "You've got a board meeting today, remember? The higher ups will be furious if you miss it."

"Ngnh. Not until nine o clock." The covers were suddenly yanked off the bed. Erik cracked an eye open and glared at his husband. "It does not take three hours to get to my office."

"The kids have to be woken up-half an hours work right there. They all need to eat breakfast, that's another half hour. Add ten minutes for Raven to do her hair. Add ten minutes if Angel has homework she conveniently misplaced. Twenty minutes to drive them all to school. Twenty minutes for you to get to work, ten minutes ahead of meeting-time." Erik counted up in his head.

"That leaves half an hour."

"The kids are all sleeping, and I need to shower." Erik raised his head just in time to catch Charles's grin. "I thought sharing it might wake you up a bit."

**One very, very, satisfying shower later**

Erik knocked on a bedroom door. "Kids? Up!"

Nothing.

He pushed open the door and went in. As expected, the only sign of life was that the two lumps in bed seemed to be breathing. Erik flicked on a light.

"Whuzzagoinon?" Erik stepped forward and shook the nearest lump, skillfully navigating the many miniature trucks which lay on the ground. "Whu?"

"Alex, time to get up for school. You too Sean." Erik waited.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Is it _morning?_ Awesome! What's for breakfast? Can I have frosted flakes? What about Coco Puffs? Hey Dad, did you know I get to bring in something for show and tell today?" Sean bounded from his bed.

"Good morning Sean, you'll have to ask your father, and I assure you, there will be no consumption of Coco Puffs in this household."

"You're kookoo enough already." Alex hopped out of bed. They were both too young to have serious issues with the morning. "Morning Dad!"

"Good morning Alex. Your Father should be in the kitchen making breakfast." Alex's eyes brightened. At seven years old, Alex was possibly the most cherubic child Erik had ever seen, complete with blonde hair and shining eyes.

"Do you think he's making pancakes?" Sean gasped and bolted to Alex's side. Sean didn't only have energy in the mornings. Sean always had energy. Sean had so much energy that Erik would have had him checked for ADD, except Charles was a psychologist and told him Sean was just a typical five year old.

"Daddy's making pancakes?"

"If you ask nicely, _maybe_ he will." With a pitter patter of feet, Sean and Alex were gone. Erik glanced around their room. Apart from being littered with Tonka trucks, toy dragons, and books, it was in decent shape. No feathers floating about from late night pillow fights, no suspicious marks that suggested the dog had been tormented in the middle of the night.

"Did they say that Daddy is making pancakes?" Hank poked his head out of his bedroom. Hank, by virtue of being the best behaved, had his own room. Erik wasn't sure how the logic of that worked.

"I'm sure that if all three of you puppy-dog eyes him at once, he'll be convinced." Hank hurried off towards the kitchen. Sometimes, Erik thought Hank was rather serious for a nine year old.

…then again, Charles's pancakes (no matter that they were often shaped like animals) were certainly a serious matter. Erik left the boys to harangue Charles and knocked on the next door.

"Angel, Raven. Time to get up." There was shuffling from inside the room. Then the door cracked open, and one dark brown eye appeared. "Angel, is Raven up yet?"

"Um." Angel shifted. "Give us a sec."

"Angel…" Dear God, what had they done? Angel gulped.

"It's nothing big or serious don't worry!" She flicked a glance backwards. "Just give us two seconds. Or um, minutes."

"Open the door, Angel." Erik wracked his brain. What could they have done already that Angel could be guilty about?

Then he realized he hadn't seen Moira that morning.

"Is Moira in there?" How had he missed that? Moira was always around. She had a strange and unnatural way of constantly being underfoot, and a singular quest to always be as close to Charles as possible. The fact that she hadn't been scratching at the bathroom door while they had shower-sex should have tipped him off to something being wrong.

"No!" Angel said frantically. "No no no, what would make you say that? Just me and Raven."

"Raven and _I._ Now move aside." Erik let his scary parent voice show through. Angel squeaked and opened the door.

Erik entered. Most of the room was as it should have been-an adorable ten year old clutching a stuffed shark, an adorable thirteen year old blonde in a purple robe (which, incidentally, belonged to Erik), various articles of clothing and makeup scattered about the room.

One smallish dog with big brown eyes, staring at Erik in a pitiful way. To be fair, Moira always looked rather pitiful.

But she looked especially pitiful with a gauzy pink scarf wrapped around her neck, socks stuffed onto her paws, and wearing a skirt. Judging by the smudges on the cloth Raven (aforementioned adorable blonde) held, they'd been attempting to paint the poor dog's toenails.

_Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh._

"Well." Raven winced. "What have we here?"

"Um…"

_Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh._

"That poor dog. What did she ever do to you?" Raven and Angel looked at each other guiltily. Erik really doubted that putting some clothing on the dog would seriously traumatize her, but still. The nail polish was simply unacceptable.

"Well…she was there." Angel admitted. "And my alarm went off early, and Raven got up, and we were going to get up and bother you and Daddy, but Moira was sleeping at the end of the bed and we realized that she totally needs a makeover."

"There is _no_ justification for doing this to an innocent animal. Do I need to explain to you the difference between jamming her paws into socks and putting them on your own feet?" Raven and Angel looked even more guilty. Erik sighed. He really couldn't give them any serious punishment for dressing up Moira… "Go eat pancakes, but I don't want to see this again."

"Yes Father." They said in unison, before scuttling off. Erik shook his head and followed them into the kitchen, where Charles was doling out pancakes shaped like Moira, an elephant, and larvae (Hank was weird).

"Ohh, can I have a butterfly one!" Angel chirped.

"Shapes are for babies." Raven sat down with a hmpf. Erik's mouth twitched up when Charles handed her a cat shaped pancake anyway, and passed him a smiley-face. Charles didn't believe in normal pancakes.

Or in having his dog dressed up. Moira had managed to walk into the kitchen and plop herself at Charles's feet, which prompted Charles to give Angel and Raven a brisk scolding then carefully pull the socks off.

Erik glanced at the clock. "Charles, it's nearly time to leave. Don't you have appointments?"

"Right!" Charles began gathering up plates. "Raven, Angel, go get dressed." Charles took Sean's hand and flashed Erik a grin. "Do you have everything you need for your meeting?"

"Just about. You go and make sure Sean doesn't try to put his pants on his head again." Charles laughed and left with Alex and Sean. Hank, who had dutifully dressed himself before going to breakfast, and began to put dishes in the sink.

* * *

><p>After only one Charles-Raven clothing argument (Why the girl wanted to wear eyeshadow at thirteen was beyond Erik), they were on the road. Sean, Alex and Angel were dropped off at elementary school, with hugs and lunches and two minute conversations with teachers. Hank was placed in the capable hands of the advanced placement teachers at his school for geniuses. Raven was deposited, as per specifications, a block from her school, so that none of her friends would see the minivan.<p>

Charles was dropped, with a kiss and a "good luck with your crazies" in front of the Mendal Center for Mental Research, which Charles claimed was an exaggerated way to say "Shrinks Shop".

Erik sighed and leaned back, watching Charles trot into the building. As far as Charles was concerned, Erik was on his way to a meeting with several CIA officials, the topic of which was strictly classified.

As soon as Charles was out of sight, Erik slid the knife he'd concealed in his shoe to his hand. It was time to _really_ get ready for work.

The minivan was parked in a garage on the other side of town. From there Erik switched to a BMW, special design. The bodywork of the car was thicker, the better to hide an arsenal of firearms. The seats were higher, so each could easily fit a bomb beneath it. And in the trunk was a first aid kit which carried roughly the same amount of practical supplies as a fully stocked ambulance.

It was time to go to work.

* * *

><p>Erik walked into the Hellfire Club five minutes after nine.<p>

"Magneto!" He rolled his eyes. "You do realize you're late?"

"Good morning to you too, your highness. Is Shaw here yet?" Emma Frost, commonly known as the White Queen, was, in Erik's humble opinion, the office bitch. The office bitch who was unfortunately gorgeous, therefore sleeping with the boss, and in charge of everything.

"Of course not." Emma rolled her shoulders. "He'll be along with Riptide in a few minutes. Do you want me to tell him about your tardiness?"

"Let me guess, you want me to switch assignments with you." Emma smiled. "What is it this time?"

"The CEO of Monoc Securities." Emma passed him a file. "Rich, affluent, more interesting than the poisoning of a widow."

"I assume the widow has something you want." Emma leaned over her desk. The Hellfire Club's first level looked like a normal office, albeit one with only a single blonde goddess working there.

If anyone cared to look deeper, they'd find the stacks of ammunition and weaponry in Erik's desk, the building plans and schematics hidden beneath tax forms in Azazel's computer, and the bombs neatly organized in Riptide's cubicle. Emma's cubicle was full of information on their "jobs".

"Here." Emma handed him a photograph of an old woman. She was modestly dressed and looked very grandmotherly, the only unusual thing being the large diamonds around her neck. "Her son wants the inheritance. I want the diamonds. Besides, she's hardly on your level."

"Fair enough." Erik was well aware the poisoning some old woman was a waste of his skills. He was after all, the best assassin in the Hellfire club. Most claimed the best in the world. That had even gotten him the nickname "Magneto"-people claimed he could manipulate the bullets to go wherever he wanted.

Thank God for the privacy clause in his contract. Outside of the Hellfire Club, no one knew who he was. Shaw kept no photos of him on record, no address, no telephone number. It was a benefit given to all members.

For all Erik knew, Emma herself had a husband or kids, or elderly grandparents to look after, or Riptide (Janos to his friends) had a lovely house in suburbia. But he doubted it. Then again, none of his coworkers would ever think he had kids and a husband either.

"Excellent." Emma leaned back and stared at him. "You look strange today, Erik."

"You constantly look like you live in the 1960s with that hairstyle, do I comment on it?" Emma chuckled. "When the hell is Shaw going to get here?"

"In his own time, as you damn well know." Oh, Erik knew. Shaw ruled the Hellfire Club with an iron fist, and while Erik acknowledged that they were the best of the best in their field (ignoring of course The Guild, the only rival company that mattered), he sometimes wanted to shoot Shaw. "Go read the files, he's quite an interesting character."

"That sounds promising." Erik sat down at his desk and flipped through the file. The CEO was in his fifties, disgustingly rich, and at the center of a drug distribution ring that encompassed most of Northern California. "Who wants him dead?"

"The owner of Yezmen Securities." Emma began filing a nail.

"Distributes drugs to most of southern California." Azazel provided. Erik forced himself not to jump. That man had the most irritating way of walking in without making a sound… "Magento, is zat your target?"

"I'm after his rival." Azazel made an amused noise and began cleaning off a bloody knife. "You must have had a interesting case."

"Ze man's guards forced me to escape vizout cleaning my knives." Azazel shook his head in a disgusted manner. "No courtesy."

"But you got him?" Emma pulled out another form. Azazel nodded. She smiled coldly and stamped something. "Your percentage will be deposited as soon as I confirm with the client."

"Zee Zhat it is." Erik finished reading his file. His target would, at noon, be eating lunch on the roof of his horribly guarded penthouse. With the proper gun, he'd be easy to off from one of the surrounding rooftops.

"Nice to see all of my wonderful assassins working hard." Erik, Azazel, and Emma stood to attention as Shaw walked in, accompanied by Riptide. Shaw smiled at all of them. "Have you received your assignments?"

Erik and Emma nodded. Azazel held up the bloody cloth.

"Ahead of schedule as always, Azazel. Remind me to give you a raise." Shaw walked to the back of the room and laid his hand flat on the wall.

Without a whisper of sound the wall moved up, revealing a richly furnished room. Leather chairs were placed around a table made of some dark wood. Erik had seen building schematics projected onto that table, a dead body being dissected on that table, and Emma swearing at paperwork while sitting at that table.

The last had been the only one that scared him. Erik followed Shaw into the room and sat down. The rest of the club followed suit. Shaw settled himself in the largest chair at the head of the table, and began to speak.

"Gentleman, and Gentlewoman, I have interesting news. In our last quarter there's been no enormous rise in profits, which can be attributed, as you may have guessed, to the Guild." Groans from around the table. "It's unfortunate that they're as good as their reputation-I have very little information about any of the assassins serving, nor about their headquarters."

"How many do they employ?" Emma leaned forward. "Could we get a mole in?"

"It's doubtful." Shaw's eyes narrowed. "This is after all, not an organization in need of new recruits. It's been around for centuries, and it has the only assassin whose skill is on par with yours, Magneto."

"They've got someone that good?" Riptide asked, sounding a bit incredulous. Shaw nodded. "Mierda."

"Janos, be civil. I'm working on the problem as we speak." Shaw pressed his fingers together. "Magneto, Emma, I want those jobs completed by tonight. The Hellfire Club could use the boost in reputation. Azazel, you'll be dropping them off."

"Ja." Shaw waved a hand to dismiss them.

"We are clearly in deep shit." muttered Riptide. "I hope Shaw can get that particular assassin out of the way, and fast. Or recruit him."

"Don't be a moron, no one leaves The Guild." Emma began riffling through her desk. "Their severance package is even worse than ours."

"Ah." Erik grimaced. The only way to leave the Hellfire Club was with a bullet in your skull. "Emma, where's your target?"

"Utah." Emma finally fished a capful of white powder from her desk. "Riptide can drop me off on the way. Pass me a needle." Erik slid open the file cabinet devoted to plain needles, and selected one full of clear liquid. Emma took it and tapped a sprinkling of powder into the liquid. She held it up with a smile.

"Planning for the injection route?" Azazel sniffed. "So scientific."

"So untraceable, unlike your knives. This is meant to look like a natural death."

"As opposed to you indulging your diamond fetish." Erik picked a gun from under his desk and began filling his pockets with ammunition. Emma glared at him. "Come on, I want to leave on time."

* * *

><p>When Erik stepped into his house, two large masses slammed into his legs.<p>

"Dad!"

"Dad! Lookit what I drew today!" Erik blinked down at Sean and Alex. Alex was waving a piece of paper at him. Erik leaned down to pick Sean up and take the paper.

"Hello, kids." Sean giggled and tugged on his coat. Erik examined the picture. "Hold on a second. I see Raven, I see Angel, I see Sean and Hank. Where are your father and I?"

"Silly Dad!" Alex pointed to the blobs on the right hand side. "See! You two are dragons!"

"Of course. How did I miss that?" Erik patted Alex's head. "I must say, you have great artistic talent."

"What's artistic talent mean?"

"It means you know how to draw, stupid." Angel hurried into the hallway. "Dad, can I have a pony?"

"No, and don't call your brother stupid." Erik bounced Sean. "Is there a reason you want a pony?"

"I can't fly." Erik was going to let Charles figure out this one. Speaking of which, where was his husband?

"Charles?" Charles hurried around the corner. Erik's mouth twitched up. Charles was barefoot and had something orange splashed over his cardigan. Erik shifted Sean to on arm and stepped forward to kiss him.

"Hi honey, how was your day?" _Well, the assassination went smoothly-really, anyone with that much money in their bank accounts should install bulletproof windows, and a co worker of mine now has a new necklace which is worth more than your entire wardrobe. We're having problems with another firm and I found out that someone else might be as good at killing as I am, but nothing you need worry your pretty little head over._

"Oh, just a normal day. The board meeting was boring." Charles chuckled.

"Those government types always seem to be." Erik tugged on the edge of Charles's cardigan.

"And what have we here?"

"Hank was helping me make dinner, and we had a minor accident." Charles smiled. "Did you see Alex's picture?"

"Yes. We're, ah, dragons." Alex, down at his knees, nodded emphatically. Charles ruffled his hair.

"I was thinking we could hang it on the fridge." Sean gasped and wriggled out of Erik's arms.

"Can I do it? Can I? Can I?"

"Ask Alex." Erik instructed. Sean turned to Alex with huge eyes.

"Can I hang up your picture?"

"Sure." Erik handed the picture to Sean. Alex and he scurried off. Angel trotted after them. Erik rolled his eyes and took off his coat (all ammunition had been removed). Charles laughed quietly.

"I have no idea how Alex got that idea, but it's better than when Raven was eight."

"The lab rat and shark thing? Anything is better than that." Erik tugged Charles closer. Charles tipped his head up and kissed him properly. "And how was your day?"

"I had some interesting patients." Right. Charles believed in doctor-patient confidentiality. "Nothing as fascinating as government commission work."

"Heh. Define interesting."

"Daaaaad! Hank won't stop touching my stuuuuuff!" Raven shouted.

"I think that answers your question." Charles muttered. He raised his voice. "Raven, Hank is just curious!"

Erik snickered and followed Charles into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>There were times when Erik wished to God he had a different job. A job that he didn't end up in just because Shaw became his guardian when he was eight. A job that was nice and boring and had easier hours, which he could quit if he wanted to.<p>

Like now. Charles had Alex on his lap and was reading "Winnie the Pooh" to him, Raven was curled up next to him reading a Harry Potter book, Angel was leaning against Erik fighting to stay awake, Sean was snoring lightly while sprawled across Moira's belly, and Hank was reading another Harry Potter book.

It was so normal. So far removed from the Hellfire Club and everything that damned organization was. Except that the cheque he got for killing that CEO would probably pay for next month's groceries.

**A/N: Um. Reviews? Please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! And thank you Sofia, for, upon my asking you at lunch "High School, Assassin or Psychotic?" answering assassin and **_**then**_** inquiring as to my mental health.**

**So readers (I use authors notes to vent, deal with it) guess what happened to me today? I got detention for not handing in a sheet which I never got, after having told my homeroom teacher multiple times that I didn't get the sheet, and him refusing to believe me, and not giving me another. Jerk. I used my detention to write and let out some of my fury.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except some nutella flavored ice cream. **

Sometimes, Charles felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest.

Not the kind of hole like he'd been shot. Charles _had_ been grazed by bullets a few times, and _sort of _shot, but never shot in the "holes in chest way". He was too good at his job to let someone get a bullet in him.

The kind of hole that happened when you lied to your husband and children daily.

Sure, Charles had considered telling Erik about his "job". When he'd first met Erik and found himself falling for the man, and falling _hard_, he thought it might have been a good idea.

"By the way, man I can no longer picture my future without, I'm an assassin, because my family has been part of The Guild for generations, and I'm really good at it, and I unfortunately can't quit because they'll find me and kill me." _That_ conversation would have gone well. Especially since Erik worked for the government and would have been-still would be-obligated to turn him in.

Then he'd somehow adopted Raven because she was an orphan and was stealing from his kitchen, then Erik had proposed in an absolutely wonderful way, and then they adopted more children and Moira, though that had mainly been because she constantly followed Charles around and he read that pets were good in a child's development.

"I think they're all asleep." murmured Erik. Charles blinked and was brought back to the present, where he had a snoozing seven year old on his lap and various other kids asleep either on the floor or in some position close to his husband.

"If you can grab Angel, I've got Sean and Alex." Ah, it was fun having so many kids that you needed to take two trips just to get them all to bed. Thank God he had a family fortune and The Guild paying him a ridiculous amount of money.

"Will do." Erik carefully moved the dark-haired girl into his arms. "Do you know why she suddenly wants a pony?"

"Because she can't fly." Charles said matter of factly. He bent down to pick up Sean. Moira whined. "Oh, poor girl."

"You know, that dog has no fondness for me whatsoever." Charles scratched Moira's head. Erik's claims about Moira's mind always amused him.

"You don't walk her Erik. You don't feed her. You don't pet her." Admittedly, Erik's job had longer hours than Charles's. But that was mainly because Charles had some excellent coworkers and a motorcycle.

"That's because she doesn't like me. Whenever I try she _glares_." Charles set off down the hall with Erik in tow, and Moira padding behind.

"Don't be ridiculous…" Charles yawned. Erik laughed.

"You sound exhausted. Go to bed, I'll take care of the kids."

* * *

><p>Charles got out of the car, waved goodbye to Erik, and walked into his building. Just like every morning, he went through the entire office, nodding to people who smiled cheerfully and said good morning to him.<p>

It was a real corporation. No one working there knew the entire thing was set up as a cover for him. As far as these people knew, he was a psychologist who went to asylums and worked with the patients there. In reality, the office was just where he kept his kit.

Charles walked into the office, shut the door behind him, and locked it. There were no windows in this office, too much of a security risk. The walls themselves were steel plated, and the lock could be activated so it would fry anyone who entered.

He sat down at the desk and pressed his thumb to the lock of the first drawer. It slid open, revealing a touch keyboard. Charles put in his password, the string of unrelated numbers that his employer gave him to memorize at the end of each day.

The second drawer opened. It held a glock-445, a weapon that the military kept for the secret service. As far as Charles knew, the military was unaware that The Guild had requisitioned a few for their own purposes. Charles put the gun in his jacket and slid a knife into his trousers.

There. _Now_ he was ready to go to work.

Charles got up and closed the drawers, picking up his briefcase. The briefcase held fake security papers, a few types of poison, and explosives. It was a kit all the assassins in the Guild were supposed to carry, in case of emergencies.

He went back out, locking his office door. From there he left the building and walked two blocks to where a motorcycle was parked. Charles put on the helmet-it was remarkable how hard it was to identify anyone wearing a helmet-and swung into traffic.

The Guild's headquarters was located in the next city over. Charles was used to not practicing what he preached and breaking all speed limits to get there. He did so this morning.

He walked into the Stony Brook Mental Health Hospital exactly on time, nodded to the receptionist (she'd long since been detongued, it was futile to initiate conversation) and headed into the conference room.

"Wolverine, Sabertooth." Charles nodded cordially. He sat down at his place. They were all seated in the same hard wooden chairs. The chairs made out a now extinct tree and worth a few thousand dollars each, despite that they were a pain to sit on.

"Professor." Wolverine grunted. He was smoking. Charles knew perfectly well that his full name was James Logan Howlett, that he and Sabertooth (or Victor Creed) were brothers, and that he'd murdered his father as a boy. Both of them were old soldiers. Charles liked Wolverine, for being the single best knife fighter he'd ever met, and for being a very honest man.

Being an artful liar, Charles appreciated Wolverine's brevity.

"Professor, glad you were able to join us." Their leader walked forward. Charles knew that there were other outposts of The Guild, hell, he'd grown up half in those outposts, but this was the one with the deepest cover.

Charles bent his head respectfully. "Mr. Stryker."

"Busy day today." Stryker said. "Sabertooth, you're setting loose an influenza strain in a Chinese factory." Charles made a mental note to watch what he was buying for the kids. Professor, Wolverine, I want you two on the same job."

"Oh?" Charles folded his hands over his leg. This room contained the deadliest people in the entirety of The Guild. Needing two of them for one task was a very, very, very, bad sign.

"An authority figure whose name I'm not at liberty to reveal has requested that we make the leader of a small country in the middle east no longer an issue." Stryker sighed. "I've been told that the matter has to do mostly with politics and oil. And you can rest assured that there's no need to fly to Asia today, I know the Professor prefers not to travel."

Charles was very grateful that his family's long history with The Guild gave them privileges like that.

"Conveniently, the leader is in neutral waters a few miles off the Canadian coastline." Stryker pushed a file across the table. Charles flicked it open and scanned the plans of a boat. "His yacht is wired with explosives, and loaded with information."

"Sink it and wait in a helicopter in case he comes up?" Wolverine suggested. Charles passed him the photos.

"Too risky. And I'm guessing we want those papers." Charles said. Stryker nodded.

"The client has given us full permission to take whatever we want off the boat, as none of it is blackmail against her. There's quite a bit about her husband, but she's granted us clearance to use any of that, claiming that it will be of great help to her divorce proceedings if it's proven that he's mired in criminal activity."

"_That_ is why you don't get married." Wolverine muttered. Charles ignored him in favor of reviewing the information. The target was a crackshot with a pistol, which he carried with him at all times, and every guard on the yacht was either a former marine or a former SAS.

Yeah. It would be good to have Wolverine at his back for this.

"Professor, you and Wolverine will be flown to just outside the ships radar. From there, dive off the plan and into the water. Swim to the yacht. The ladders are all covered in laser, you'll be provided with a grappling hook to climb up. Take out every guard, and the target. From there, take control of the boat and steer it to the coordinate point provided. We'll airlift you and the information out, then activate the explosives."

"Yes sir." Charles said. He read over the diagrams of the security again. Wolverine grunted in a vaguely agreeing way.

* * *

><p>While in the jet towards Canada, Charles changed his business casual to a wetsuit. Though his fingerprints weren't on any database - Stryker made sure of that - he swiped them with a chemical that temporarily made all prints illegible. His guns were hooked to special pockets on the wetsuit, one of which contained a cellphone, and covered with an airtight sealant.<p>

When he was finished, they were almost to the drop. Charles nodded at Wolverine, who was similarly dressed. The jet dipped down until it was only about ten feet above the water.

In unison, they jumped from the hatch. Arms locked to sides, legs pressed together, so as to be as discreet as possible. They slid into the water. Charles glanced at Wolverine-he was fine, though scowling. Wolverine disliked water.

_Forward._ Signaled Charles. Wolverine nodded and they both began to swim, activating their oxygen tanks. They swam in absolute silence, the only light the sun glittering on the waters far above their heads.

Charles reviewed the plans as he went-they'd have to be on the west side, because the other had openings to the lower decks which someone might be walking up. Weapons would have to be on silent the entire time.

But on the plus side, as long as the target was alive, the guards wouldn't be able to blow up the boat. Someone would just have to be constantly on alert for whether the target was moving.

They reached the boat. Charles surfaced first, and scanned the dock. Only one guard in sight. He carefully picked a gun off his belt and took off the protective layering. Wolverine did the same. Charles paddled a few feet back, took aim, and fired.

The guard dropped. Wolverine immediately tossed the grappling hook up. Charles swung onto the chain first, climbing up with one hand and holding the gun in another. Wolverine followed, drawing the chain up behind him as they went.

With almost no noise at all, the perimeter had been breached. Charles vaulted onto the deck and sank into a crouch. He soundlessly dismantled the protection on his other gun. Wolverine landed next to him, reattaching the hook and chain to his waist.

They made eye contact, and Charles slid over the deck to the other side, hopping over a laser as he went. Wolverine followed and stood at his back with a gun as Charles sidled over to the top of the steps. He opened fire with both guns a second later, running down the steps and shooting out both security cameras as he went.

Wolverine followed with a second onslaught, this one taking out the two remaining navigators. They'd reached the control room. Wolverine hurriedly stacked the bodies in a corner as Charles opened a hidden panel behind a fish tank (who the hell had a fish tank on a boat?) and began to override the security system.

"Something's wrong." Wolverine muttered. Charles nodded. He felt it too…like someone was watching. "Move!" Charles rolled to the side. Wolverine opened fire at the steps, where five more guards appeared.

"Dammit." Charles hissed. He scrambled back to the control panel and began yanking out wires. "They shouldn't know we're here!"

"I'm thinking our information was faulty." growled Wolverine. The guards were still trying to get into the room. Charles flicked a final wire and from the top of the ceiling there was a hiss. Sparks drifted down.

"Extra camera. I bet there was one on the deck where we came in too." Charles said. He joined Wolverine in keeping the guards off the stairs. "This is also substantially more guards than we were made aware of."

"Whoever the bitch is that gave us this, I am going to personally rip her throat out." Wolverine growled. The fire from the stairs stopped. "They aren't as dumb as they look."

"They're waiting for us to go up there." Charles muttered. "As long as we're trapped down here, they can wait while the target leaves the boat then blow us up."

"I'm not fond of that plan."

"Neither am I." Nor did he like the fact that this was screwing up their tight schedule, and he had five kids who needed to be picked up from school. "Keep watching the stairs. I'm going to create an alternate exit."

Wolverine nodded. Charles hurried over to the wall opposite the control panel. According to the plans, this opened into one of the rooms that was chock full of incriminating information. He knelt down in front of it and reached into his boot, where he made it a point to keep a tube of acid.

Charles drizzled the acid over the wall in four lines. It was a special mix Stryker had appropriated from a chemist in Moscow many years ago, and it was very effective. Within seconds, steam was hissing from the wall.

"Switch." Charles murmured to Wolverine. He moved to cover the stairs while Wolverine took out his knives. Within seconds, they had a very small door into the other room. "I'll sneak up on them from behind. I draw their fire, you come up and take them from the back. Don't shoot at me."

"Gotcha." Wolverine reloaded his gun. Charles slipped through the hole and stalked back up to the deck. About twenty guards were there. The plans hadn't mentioned there being anywhere on this yacht to house that number of guards.

That was unusual. That was very, very, very, unusual.

Charles positioned himself behind a corner. According to the plan these walls were made from solid steel, more than tough enough to block a rain of bullets. Then he leaned around it and opened fire. The guards reacted with admirable reflexes, all whirling around to form a concentrated stream of bullets.

Which left their backs completely open. Wolverine came up the steps spraying bullets. Charles focused his fire to the right side, where Wolverine wasn't wrecking havoc, and Wolverine stayed out of Charles's way.

Charles had worked with Logan quite a few times. They knew the system.

When all the men had been killed, Charles slid out from his cover.

"This entire operation is screwy." muttered Wolverine. He'd noticed the abnormal number of bodies as well.

"Let Stryker deal with it. The target should still be here." Charles looked at his watch.

_Shit_. They were running late.

"Split up." Charles ordered. "You take the right side, I take left." _Shoot the target on sight. _

Wolverine nodded and, without a sound, began to move over the deck. Charles shifted into a dog trot and reloaded as he went.

Three dead guards and four rooms later, and Charles was beginning to have a problem with this. He'd checked the life boats; they were all there. And he kept an eye on the sea, but no one was swimming away.

_If I were on a boat and two assassins were coming to kill me, where would I hide…_

Duh. Charles knew exactly where he would have gone as soon as it was safe, and where he would have stayed until both the assassins were below deck. Charles turned around and went towards the dead bodies.

He and Logan hadn't had time to stack them, so they were in heaps on the deck where they fell. One such heap was suspiciously large. Charles flicked the safety off his gun and opened fire at the largest heap of bodies.

From within, someone shrieked. A second later a small, well dressed, middle eastern type man bolted from the pile. He took one look at Charles and swallowed a scream. Charles was guessing that, even if he didn't know exactly who Charles was, he knew that The Guild had come for him.

"I can give you money, anything you want-" Charles raised the gun and executed him. The man dropped like a stone. Charles activated the conns. Normally they avoided using communication devices, because they made it easy to locate a person, but exceptions could be made once the target was dead.

"Target neutralized. Meet me in the control room."

"Professor, we've got a problem." Charles's heart sank. If Wolverine was admitting something was a problem, it was a big fucking problem. "We had the wrong plans for the security system. This boat is going to blow sky high, and I don't know when."

"Ah." Charles winced. "Meet me on the"

The boat rocked. Charles rolled and hit the railing hard, covering his head with his arms. He hurled himself over the railing as another explosion ripped through the boat, flames shooting up. The smell of gasoline tinged the air.

"Wolverine, still here?" He'd been careful to keep both his guns and the comm system out of the water.

"Damn right." Wolverine's voice was a bit rough. "Jumped overboard soon as I felt a tremor."

"Good man." Charles began paddling towards the boat. "As the boat seems to have exhausted it's supply of explosives, we need to get back on and get as much of that information as possible."

"Great." Wolverine muttered. The comm went back to static. Charles cautiously swam up to a ladder and poked it with a gun. Looked like the laser system was offline. He climbed back onto the boat.

Wolverine was still working his way around the cabin to him. Charles glanced around and took out his cellphone.

* * *

><p>Erik walked through a darkened laboratory, his footsteps silent. He was in a building only an hour out from the city, where he'd been ordered to kill the head scientist of some project that was siphoning the budget from another project. The lab here had a terrible alarm system, and Erik was minutes away from getting a clear shot.<p>

Nothing could interrupt the plan.

And then, something buzzed in his pants. Every alarm in the building went off. Erik swore and dove into a random room, thankful the security system was so rarely used that no one knew the protocol, and that this building was full of nerds anyway.

Who the hell…Erik whipped out the phone.

_Call from: Charles_

"Hello?" Erik pulled a fire alarm. The noise drowned out the other alarms.

"Erik!" Charles sounded a bit strained. "What in the world is going on there?"

"Fire drill. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm running horribly late. Could you pick the kids up from school today?" In the background, someone screamed. Erik started.

"Jesus Christ!"

"A patient is displaying some negative symptoms." Charles said. Erik heard footsteps moving. "He ah, is being rather violent. And I've got an obligation to stay until security gets him down and to fill out the paperwork."

"No problem. I can grab them." Erik promised.

"Thanks Erik! Now I'm afraid I've got to run!"

"Go deal with your nut job, and _be careful!_" Charles laughed into the phone and hung up. Erik grimaced. It was weird, thinking of Charles having a job around dangerous people. Erik preferred to think that he was only one whose job had psychopaths anywhere near it.

* * *

><p>"For god's sake, shut up!" Charles ended his call and shot the guard. The man had apparently been rather close to one of the explosions, and burning alive. Charles shook his head.<p>

"Professor!" Wolverine jogged over. He'd barely been burned. Wolverine had the record in the Guild for surviving the most he-should-have-died situations, and it seemed his luck had held. "I checked the file cabinet room, it's not on fire yet."

"Good." Charles coughed. "Let's hurry, shall we?"

Moving file cabinets to the deck was pretty crappy work, in Charles's book. He'd never been a particularly brawny man, and while Logan was good at carrying things, Charles wasn't. Maybe if these were child shaped…

"That's all we can salvage." Logan grunted. He pushed the final heap of documentation into the life boat. Charles jumped in after it. By now, the railings were hot to touch, and they had to get out quickly. The life boats on this particular yacht all had engines full of fuel.

Logan hopped in after him and helped lower the boat, while Charles went to the steering wheel. The second they hit water Logan slashed the ropes and Charles floored it. They sped away.

* * *

><p>"The boat was smaller than I expected." Commented Sabertooth, when the cabinets had all been lifted into the jet, and Charles was sitting cleaning his gun. Logan was stripping out of his wetsuit, so as to reclaim the jeans and flannel he apparently treasured.<p>

"The plans were fucked up." Wolverine growled. "They had way more guards than we expected."

"And security cameras." Charles added. He wiggled out of his wetsuit, donning the white shirt and slacks once again. "The mission was compromised from the beginning, and their reaction time makes me suspect they knew we were coming."

"Shit." Sabertooth growled. Charles sighed and fixed his tie.

"Indeed." It was long past the time for the kids to be picked up, _and_ he still had to get back to America, be debriefed, and get to his office, so he could call Erik and ask for a ride. God, life was complicated.

* * *

><p>"You're saying that the information was faulty." Stryker looked over the report. Charles and Wolverine both nodded. They'd done separate reports, and it was Charles's that was being looked over. That much was obvious by the fine handwriting.<p>

"Yes sir."

"I'll look into it. You two are free to go." Charles's shoulders sagged. Wolverine eyed him as they left the office and Charles slid onto his motorcycle. Wolverine also had a motorcycle, but Charles was pretty sure his was one he actually owned, rather than just used as cover.

"You alright Professor?"

"Yes, I'm just a bit bruised." He started up the bike. "Good night Wolverine."

"Night." Charles drove off for the office. As soon as he got there, he dialed Erik's phone. Charles put away his guns as it rang.

"Charles!" Erik answered immediately. "Paperwork all finished?"

"Yup." Charles said wearily. "They're locking up the office now."

"I'll be right there. Most of the kids are in bed, Raven can make sure they don't all kill each other." Charles snorted out a laugh. "Be right there."

Charles locked the office and sat on the front steps to wait. In a time that suggested Erik had broken several speed limits, the minivan was pulling up. Charles pushed himself up and got inside, never so grateful to have a husband.

* * *

><p>"Damn, Charles." Erik muttered. Charles rested his head on the pillow. "These are some impressive bruises."<p>

"The patient shoved me into a wall." Charles made a happy noise as Erik's hands played over his aching back. "Were the kids okay?"

"A bit bewildered, but otherwise fine."

"Did you walk Moira?"

"I let her out."

"You two are never going to bond if you keep up that attitude." Charles sighed. He loved normalcy. Even if it entailed lying to the same man who was at present being the most wonderful spouse ever.

**A/N: Review? Pleeease? **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own this thing. It's just ruining my life by distracting my from my homework. **

"Dad! Dad!" Erik groaned. "Daaaaaaaaaaaad! Wakeup!"

It was really amazing to what degree Sean could screech when he wanted something. One of his parents must have been a howler monkey.

"Can we have pancakes?" Another leapt onto the bed. Erik grunted as Alex shook him. "Daaaaaddy!"

"No, we should have waffles!" Sean protested.

"Pancakes!"

"Waffles!"

"Pancakes!"

"Waffles!"

"I just want cereal."

"Shut up Hank!"

"Alex, don't tell your brother to shut up." Charles sat up, letting cold air under the covers. "How about I make French Toast?"

"Mmkay." Angel wiggled into the space created by Charles. "Daaad, Raven won't wake up."

"It's Saturday, what makes you think she would?" Angel yawned and snuggled up to Erik's side. "If I let you stay, will you keep quiet?"

"Yuh huh." Angel sounded liked she'd already fallen half asleep. Charles patted her shoulder and tucked the covers back around them both.

* * *

><p>Erik got up when he could smell bacon. Angel padded behind him, yawning. Raven was, as far as he could tell, still asleep.<p>

"Morning darling." Charles called from across the kitchen. Erik blinked at the batter splattered forms cloistered around his husband's knees.

"Which child is which?"

"_Daaad!"_

"You'd be Sean then." Erik took the messy plate of…something offered him. "Thank you."

"Angel, go wake up Raven." Charles ordered. Angel opened her mouth indignantly. "I'll save you some breakfast. And you can sit next to the window in the car."

"Okay!" Raven bolted away.

"Car?" Erik muttered.

"We're taking them to the fair today, remember?" Charles picked up a relatively clean plate of eggs. Erik hadn't remembered the fair. Charles chuckled. "Honestly, how does the government trust you with important documents?"

"God knows." Erik sat down and began shoveling food. Hank, who was just as food splattered as Sean and Alex, was eating a bowl of cereal. "Hank, did you help your father cook?"

"Yup." Hank grinned. "I measured."

"Are you looking forward to the fair?" Hank nodded, grinning. A spoonful of cereal fell into his lap. Erik winced. "Charles, where's the cleaner for Hank's glasses?"

"On the windowsill over the sink, same as it always is." His husband sounded vastly amused. "I'm going to go make sure Raven hasn't decapitated her little sister. Clean off the boys as soon as you get a chance."

Easier said than done. Erik eyed his sons and weighed the difficulty of having to wrestle of three of them into a shower versus getting their teenaged daughter out of bed.

Suddenly the prospect seemed much more inviting.

* * *

><p>Erik strolled along, trying to keep an eye on all the children at once.<p>

"Daddy, look!" He was doing an okay job. Angel was stuffing herself with a candied apple, perched on a bench next to him. Charles was (with hawkeyed precision) watching Sean, Alex, and Hank, who were in the bumper cars.

…Charles actually let them do that? Erik shook his head as Alex slammed into Hank's car, looking psychotic. Sean was laughing maniacally, bouncing in his seat as he spun into hairpin turns, hardening Erik's resolution to never Sean how to drive. Ever.

"D_ad_!" Angel tugged his jacket. "Lookit Raven!"

"What is Raven…oh." Raven had acquired an ice cream cone. A large, chocolate dipped, sugar loaded, ice cream cone. "You had an apple already."

"But I want an ice cream cone too!" Raven wandered over, ignoring Erik's glare.

"What'd I miss?" Erik nodded to the bumper cars. Raven giggled. "Five bucks says Hank takes vengeance within two minutes."

"I don't bet against minors. It's unethical." Raven pouted. Erik checked to see if Charles was within earshot. "One minute."

_Screech!_ Raven whooped as Hank twisted his wheel, slamming his car into Alex's so hard that they shook the ring and dented both cars. Alex shrieked and tugged the wheel. Sean cackled.

"That was so totally worth losing!" Raven fist pumped the air. "Hank power!"

The bell clanged, letting out the bumper cars. Hank ran out, flinging himself behind Charles to avoid the spitting mad blonde. Sean dashed for Erik, leaping onto his shoulders.

It was lucky he had strong shoulders. Angel had done the same thing when she was small enough. Sean wiggled his way into a piggy back position, happily jabbering.

"And then Hank hit Alex and he hit him really hard and Alex is going to kill Hank and if Alex kills Hank can I have his room?"

"I get his room if Hank dies!" Raven protested.

"No, I do!" Angel piped up.

"Children. Hank is not going to die." Erik had never pictured having this conversation when Charles and he first discussed adopting children. Admittedly, he hadn't even thought they were going to adopt kids. Then they somehow ended up with Raven and everything…escalated.

Not that Erik didn't appreciate that. Children enriched one's life.

"Alex, Hank!" Charles dragged the two children up to Erik. Alex was still scowling. "Are you three having fun?"

"Yep." Raven licked her ice cream. "Can we put Dad in the dunk tank?"

"Excuse me?" Erik asked. Alex perked up. Charles was starting to grin. "No."

"Aw, c'mon." Angel made her eyes bigger. "You should!"

"…why doesn't _Daddy _do it?" Erik restrained an evil grin at the look Charles shot him. Alex and Hank, their differences forgotten, turned pleading looks to Charles. Raven giggled and nodded. Sean peered down from Erik's shoulders. Angel pooched out her lip.

Charles sighed. The children whooped.

* * *

><p>Erik was probably supposed to feel worse about this. Except he really didn't.<p>

Charles crossed his arms and lifted his nose into the air, glaring down at the line of people. Erik chuckled and tossed the ball.

"Do your worst!" Charles called. Thus far, people no one had managed to hit the target. Erik had to give Charles credit for handling it well; he taunted the teenagers, mocked the adults, and was sweet and reassuring to the children.

"Get him!" Alex hooted. Sean bounced up and down next to Erik. "Come on Dad!"

"Yeah!" Judging by the slightly crazed look in Raven's eyes, the massive ice cream cone had started to take effect. "Get him!"

"Thank you, dear." Charles said dryly.

"Face it Charles." Erik normally tried to avoid using any type of skill related to his job. But on this occasion utilizing the tips Azazel occasionally handed about throwing knives was surely justified, and it would be worth it to wipe that smug grin off Charles's face. "The crowd is with me."

"Traitors!" Charles addressed the remark to the line of people, which included teenage couples, tourists, elderly people, and other families. There was a surge of laughter. "Bah."

Erik pulled in his breath, drew back his arm, and hurled the ball on the exhale. It smacked into the target. With a splash that was disproportionate to his size, Charles was plunged into the tank. Alex and Sean cheered. Raven burst into laughter. Angel grabbed Hank's hands and bounced up and down, wiping the look of worry off his face.

Charles surfaced and mock glared at them all. "You rejoice in my pain?"

"What does rejoice mean?" Alex asked. Charles climbed out of the tank, bowing to the line. He walked over to Erik and the kids, patting the shoulder of the next woman to get into the tank.

"Celebrate. It means you're very happy." Charles ruffled Alex's hair. Alex nodded, before spotting a clown. Angel fisted her hand in Erik's jacket. Sean and Hank both shifted to just behind Charles.

…Erik would never understand why half his family was scared of clowns. Really, he'd gone up against some bad people, and none of them had been clowns, yet no one was terrified of billionaires in Hawaiian shirts. It baffled the mind.

"Well, that was fun." Charles brought him back to the present. "I must say, you have excellent aim."

"I had motivation." Erik raked his eyes over Charles. He was soaking wet, with his shirt clinging to his body and his hair dripping water.

This was a time when if they didn't have children, Erik could drag Charles off to a bathroom or an alley somewhere and have his way with him. But then Sean and Alex would have burned down a roller coaster, Angel would be lost, Hank would be up a tree, and Raven would have found some _boy._

"Here." Erik removed his jacket and draped it around Charles's shoulders. Charles smiled at him. "I think it's the least I can do."

"Mmhm." Charles snuggled into the jacket. "Thank you. Alex, no taunting the clown!"

"Yes Daddy." Alex hurried back to them. "I just wanted to tell him to be nice to Sean and Hank."

"Alex, the clown _is_ nice." Charles explained. Erik rolled his eyes.

"Not necessarily." Raven mumbled. "Clowns kill."

Erik had a feeling he was going to get another "Why did you introduce Raven to Stephen King you silly parent now she doesn't get enough sleep" lecture once the kids were in bed.

* * *

><p>"Try your skill! Try your luck! Win a prize!" They'd progressed from the rides into the game oriented part of the park, to Erik's amusement. It was quite entertaining to watch people fail to win prizes, and to quietly explain to Hank the physics behind the failures.<p>

"Hey, Dad!" Sean grabbed his hand and pointed to one of the booths. "Look at that!"

Erik glanced over, and winced.

"Sean…" There was a booth for hitting targets. "We don't support violence remember?"

"But look at the prizes!" Erik really didn't understand the sway disturbingly large teddy bears had on small children. And oh God, Sean had that _look_. That look that said he'd had a long day and he was liable to throw a temper tantrum if he wasn't quickly obliged, and if Sean went nuts Alex was tired too and he'd follow, and Hank, however mature, might turn to sulking and then Raven would defend him and Angel would flip and _why_ did he have so many children that a chain reaction was possible?

"Fine." Charles stepped up to the booth. He'd doubtless also interpreted the look. "I'll play."

The man in the booth grinned nastily. "Sure this isn't a bit too manly?"

Erik wondered if perhaps it was better that he play. He'd wipe the smirk of that homophobe's face. But Charles had already stepped up and taken the gun, weighing it in his hands.

Then he aimed, fired, and suddenly there was a hole at the exact center of every target. The cigarette fell from the mouth of the man inside the booth.

When the _hell_ did Charles learn to shoot like that?

"Let's see how that averages out." Charles checked the listing on the side of the booth. "Everyone gets a medium sized toy."

"Yep." squeaked the man, now suitably terrified. Charles smiled and patted Sean's shoulder. "Er, take your pick."

* * *

><p>"So, Charles." Erik said. Sean and Alex both passed out the moment they got inside, and were now curled up in their beds, clutching the plastic crap they'd forget about in a week. Hank was snoozing against his book, and Angel and Raven were meant to be watching The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, but they'd fallen asleep. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"<p>

"My father." Charles smiled sheepishly. "He took me out once and decided I should know how to shoot. As for actually hitting things, I think that would just be beginners luck."

"Ah." Erik laughed. Of course Charles would be the one who had enough luck to get a bulls-eye on every single target. Charles _was_ after all, the luckiest person he'd ever met. Erik had marked him as that on the first day they met.

* * *

><p><em>Erik leaned against a bar and pretended to drink. Thus far, no one had identified him. Good. The authorities would notice the death of the ambassador soon enough, but hopefully Erik could be on a plane and halfway to America by then.<em>

"_Hey, what's going on?" One of the men who was actually drinking, and looked like he was ready to fall over, frowned at the door. "Issha inspection?"_

_Erik turned to the door. _

_Wow. That was one of the best looking guys he'd ever seen in his life. Erik blinked at the man and tried to put his thoughts back in order. There were other people coming through the door after him, Erik could focus on them and not the man's untucked shirt._

_Shit. Those were soldiers. _

"_What's going on?" He muttered to the bartender._

"_Someone's been shot." The bartender didn't look very perturbed. "They'll be looking for tourists traveling alone."_

_Crap. Erik slid a hand under the counter to grip the handle of his knife. If he had to start a knife fight here it would be messy. And that gorgeous young man would be a casualty…Erik shook his head to clear it._

"_Are you alone sir?" Erik cocked his head and pretended to not know Spanish. "Are you alone?"_

"_Sir, your passports." The young man was being accosted by one of the soldiers. He looked vaguely bewildered. "Are you alone?" _

_The man glanced across the room, and his eyes met Erik's. _

_Up until that moment, Erik had scoffed at people who talked about instant connections. But the man had really very vivid blue eyes, and he was looking at Erik with the tips of his mouth slowly turning up, and Erik stepped forward as if he'd known the man all his life._

"_Honey, what's going on? Esta bien, he's with me." Erik said to the soldier. He took the man's hand. "Should I fetch our passports from the hotel room?"_

"_Of course darling." The man grinned back at him. Erik fought the urge to giggle. _

"_Move along, move along." The soldier grumbled. Gay couples were clearly not suspects for international murders. _

_How fascinating. Erik would have to mention that to Shaw. _

_Erik looped his arm with the man's and hurried to his hotel room, closing the door behind them as quietly as he could. The man flashed him a smile._

"_Thank you. Do you have any idea what they're talking about?" Judging by the accent, the man was American._

"_I think something happened down at the embassy. It's all I can think of that would make soldiers search a hotel." Erik held out his hand. "Erik Lensherr."_

"_Charles Xavier. And I should tell you, I don't normally go into the hotel rooms of strange men." _

"_And you made an exception for me?" Erik could feel his grin widening. Charles giggled._

"_Well, there are special cases. Tall dark and mysterious strangers, for example." He looked around. "Wow, nice room. So what are you doing in Columbia?"_

"_If I told you, I'd have to kill you." Charles looked at him quizzically. "I work for the government. They put me up in such a nice hotel, I think they'd be angry if I got arrested."_

"_Oh, I see. You were bringing me to my room to help your cover, not to seduce me. Drat." Erik burst out laughing. Charles smiled at him. "I'm a psychiatrist. I was supposed to be in town for a convention but…" he made a wry face. "I booked the wrong tickets."_

"_Seriously?" Erik raised his eyebrows. Charles looked sheepish._

"_I was half asleep when I booked them, and all the flight announcements were in Spanish. I didn't realize this wasn't Brazil until I'd already left the airport. Stranding myself in a foreign country with no hotel room and, if something really bad happened at the embassy, probably no flight home."_

_Hmm. This was the first time Erik had ever felt bad about killing someone._

"_You know, the soldiers will be suspicious if you sleep in a separate room tonight." Erik murmured. Charles looked at him under his lashes._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_I've been here before." True. That time he had been killing a drug dealer. "And the soldiers are very paranoid. They'll be watching us. We simply must stick around each other until you can get a flight out."_

"_Well…" Charles sighed. "All of my luggage was lost, so I suppose that letting you pay for my meals wouldn't be so bad."_

"_Who said I was paying?" Charles shot him a pitying look._

"_Darling. Please. If we're to pretend to be a couple to appease the Columbian military, it's only logical for you, the manly one, to pay for meals." He paused. "That's not a sentence I say every day."_

"_Only it you'll dance with me tonight." Charles chuckled._

"_That's all? Dear Erik, I would be delighted to." The patio behind the hotel was beautiful. They toasted "To espionage", and Erik had to fight to keep from laughing. Charles's goofy grin as he tossed back a shot made it worth the lie. His smoldering look when Erik asked for his dance made paying for dinner worthwhile._

_That had been the first time Erik was able to forget about his job. It was wonderful. _

_And so Erik woke up in the morning next to a rather exquisite young man, and found himself going out and milking a goat just to impress him. _

_For the record, it worked. _

_They ended up with seats next to each other on the plane (Charles was lucky). They ran into each other in the street (Charles was lucky). Charles's background check showed that he went to Oxford and got a degree in psychiatry (Charles was smart, which was even better than lucky). He could beat Erik at chess (Charles was lucky, no matter how many times Erik got his ass kicked)._

_Since, then, getting rid of Charles just hadn't been an option. _

**A/N: Someone requested a flashback, and the idea was just too much fun for me to resist. And you know what? I'm sick. I have very little energy. (Thus the lack of death in this chappie. I promise, the next one is full of killing) I'm yucky and sniffling and should be doing homework. But I'm not, because your reviews were so wonderful I just had to write another chapter.**

**Google Chrome crashed three freaking times when I tried to save my revisions so I could upload. Please review? It might make the feeling of wanting to put an axe through my laptop go away.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: You reviewers are all so awesome. **

**I just wrote a short story that was supposed to be about the things I carry, and that morphed into me going to another dimension and finding out that cats are the spokespeople for this dimension and aslkjgofhg I needed to do something saneish.**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Erik and Charles. I wish…**

Erik wasn't sure whether to be relieved about the impromptu meeting, or grateful that he didn't have to go out and shoot someone just yet. You knew you were getting old when a day at a fair with some kids was enough to drain your energy…

"Despite best efforts, the Guild still has an unimpeachable record." Shaw said. Riptide and Azazel both looked a bit nonplussed. Emma was frowning. Erik yanked his mind back to the meeting. "So more elaborate measures will have to be taken."

Riptide and Azazel straightened, both looking eager.

"There is an arms dealer who has just flown in. He's staying the night at an extremely well guarded hotel, and leaving in the morning. There's an agency in South America which is offering a hundred thousand dollars for the people who kill him." Erik waited. "That would be you, Magneto."

"Where?"

"He'll fly out tomorrow. You and Riptide can rig his plane" Shaw paused. "I trust you two are competent enough with explosives to need no further instructions. Azazel, you'll be flying out to Florida today to solve a small issue with a casino. Emma, stay with me."

"Yes sir." Erik began to plot.

* * *

><p>At noon exactly, two security guards for Hartel National Airport were walking down a hallway. It was almost time for their shift. Both made almost the same noise - a surprised "urk" - as their throats were slit from behind. Their bodies were carefully put into suitcases which were then tossed into the back of an airport truck by a cheerful Hispanic man, who by all appearances was simply loading up lost luggage to be returned to it's owners.<p>

As this happened, a janitor mopped the floors where blood had been spilled. Not ten minutes later, two rather good looking men in the same uniforms as the late security guards headed out to check a private plan.

"I hate these uniforms." Erik grumbled to Riptide.

"Me too." Riptide opened the gas tank, wrinkling his nose as fumes wafted out. "It would have been easier to take this guy out with an air gun."

"I guess his security was too good." Erik began fastening wires to the walls. "Clamps."

Riptide opened the pouch he'd slung around his midriff (the security guard had rather heavier proportions) and passed Erik the tool. "You get the wires in?"

"Yup." Erik poked one into a pipe. "Let's move."

From the windows of the airport, a couple of security guards walking into the plan could be seen.

"Crouch down so no one can see we're both here." Erik muttered out of the side of his mark as they entered the cockpit. "I'm going to take off the side of the console, can you attach it?"

"On it." Riptide nimbly disconnected wires from devices. "Hand me the connecting wire."

Erik handed it over and pretended to be checking switches as Janos rewired the actual switches to trigger the bomb. Erik had seen Riptide's work before. It would tear this plane to shreds.

"Done." Riptide put the panel back in it's proper location. Erik reconnected it to the other parts of the console, until it was virtually impossible to see where it had been tampered with. "What's our exit plan?"

"Airport delivery van, swing around the factory district to dump the bodies." Erik left the plane, waving to the bunch of kids watching from the airport windows. They waved back excitedly. Sean was probably about the same age as those kids.

"Magneto." Riptide said quietly. His fingers brushed the holster beneath his shirt. "Let's go."

At precisely two o clock an airport delivery van drove through the more industrial part of the city. It stopped briefly next to a very large abandoned building, which interestingly enough had a very large and working incinerator, and delivered a few suitcases.

Erik walked back into the truck and glanced at Riptide. He had a phone pressed to his ear.

"Shaw wants us on another job, now. Other side of the city." Erik restrained a sigh.

* * *

><p>Erik flopped into bed. God, he was tired. <em>So<em> tired. He felt Charles crawl in beside him with a sigh, and pulled him closer.

"Nnngh." _I'm tired. I must sleep._

Erik wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a very bad sign that he and Charles had been married for so long they could read each other's gruntspeak. Whatever. It was late. He was tired. The bed was soft…

A phone was ringing. Erik raised his head and growled. Whoever was calling them had to die. Screw his cover. Charles pushed himself onto his elbows and reached over the bed, fishing in one of his pant pockets. _This, _Erik thought, _was the reason no one should leave laundry lying around. _

"H'lo?" Charles said groggily. "What?"

Erik frowned. Charles's voice had gone from sleepy to hyper-alert.

"Oh. Really. Yes. I'll be there in twenty minutes." Charles snapped the phone shut. Erik frowned at him. "Work."

"Who the hell needs a psychologist this late?" Charles got out of bed and began putting on clothing.

"A rather disturbed young man who thinks that his mother is an alien. I'm sorry darling, but…" Charles flung on a shirt and shrugged helplessly. "I'll try to back as soon as I possibly can."

"You can't tell your boss to go fuck himself?" Charles shot Erik a _look._

"If I wanted my head blown off…figuratively speaking, of course." Charles buttoned up the shirt and hurried into the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I'll try to talk him into sense as quickly as possible."

"Uh-huh." Erik sighed. Charles, having made himself presentable, trotted from the bathroom to give Erik a quick kiss. Then he was out the door and gone. Erik wondered how he was supposed to sleep now.

* * *

><p>Charles parked the minivan a block from his office and waited outside, shivering. In seconds, a taxi drove up. Charles got into the back, feeling like a hooker.<p>

"Here." Logan was driving. He hurled a bag into the backseat. "Put this on."

Charles opened it and groaned internally. Of course _he_ was the one who had to do this assassination.

As Charles wiggled into calf high boots and fishnets (really? It was freezing out, did all prostitutes just catch pneumonia?) he wondered what Erik would think.

"Fourth floor, room 17. He's expecting someone sent up." Logan said shortly. He passed Charles a briefcase. "No guns, no knives. But this guy is into some interesting sorts of games, and the tools are deadly enough."

"Does Stryker want it to look natural?" Charles asked. He began buttoning up his coat, which thankfully hid a good amount of his legs. Logan nodded and glanced back into the cab, snickering. "Shut up."

"It's an interesting outfit Professor."

"One more chuckle and I tell Stryker that you use his desk as an ash tray whenever he isn't looking." They pulled up to the hotel. Charles adjusted his coat, wishing that the stupid outfit wasn't so uncomfortable. "I'll be done in under half an hour, hopefully."

"Hey, it's not like I have a life. Go nuts." Charles glared at Wolverine and got out of the car. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that at least he wasn't going to actually sleep with this man and that Erik never had to know.

Ever.

That didn't make him feel better. Charles shook his head rapidly and adjusted his walk to a confident, experienced stride. He held the briefcase like he was daring anyone to look into it, and walked past the concierge's desk without being challenged.

He did catch the woman's eye roll - clearly, she thought she knew where he was going and what he was doing. Good. If she was questioned, all she would be able to say was that she saw a prostitute go by and didn't inquire further.

Charles ran over the client details in his mind. The man had three failed marriages - that was good, ex-wives were often subjects in police investigations - and had gotten his rather impressive fortune from smuggling guns.

Oh, yay. He did like it when he was killing someone he wouldn't have liked anyway.

The elevator doors opened. Charles stepped in between a secretary and a man wearing a suit. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the way the man's eyes ran over his legs and the way the woman huffed.

"So, are either of you…" the man grinned lewdly. Charles eyed him. "Nice boots."

"Do you want something?" Charles put as much snoot into his voice as possible. The man chuckled and reached towards him. Charles wrinkled his nose.

"Baby, you have no idea." What a terrible liar this man was.

"I'm taken." Not a lie. He was married and supposed to be here to have sex with this man's employer. Not that Charles was meant to know that this man was an employee of the guns dealer, but he recognized the outline of a gun when he saw one. This guy was security doing a test, which Charles had passed, judging by the way the man relaxed.

"Excuse me, this is my floor." Charles sashayed from the elevator. The hotel was high class, with plush carpeting and gold plaques just to announce the room numbers. That was good. It meant that the staff was paid extremely well not to talk about what went on inside, and subsequently wouldn't check the rooms until a manager said to do so.

Charles knocked on the door to room 17. A man in a pink bathrobe opened it, and Charles almost laughed out loud. He could see Raven's reaction to the bathrobe in his mind perfectly, and it involved lighters.

But this was business. Charles stepped in and posed himself, slowly undoing the buttons of the coat. The target smiled appreciatively and sat down on the bed. After throwing the coat away in an appropriately dramatic fashion, complete with a shaking out of his hair, and he snapped on of fishnetty gloves that were really very uncomfortable.

Then again, the whole outfit was uncomfortable, from the calf high leather boots to the tips of the fishnet gloves. And that wasn't even getting into the translucent top and miscellaneous leather bits. He shuddered to think how many cows had been slaughtered for this job.

"So." Charles purred. "Have you been a bad boy recently?"

This was _embarrassing._

"Ohh, yes." The target shivered. No wonder Stryker pulled "The Professor" for this one, neither Logan nor Victor could pull this off. The outfit, maybe, but not the acting.

Charles stalked around him, whip in hand. Quite apart from being in a get-up that would have had Erik in fits of laughter and the children exchanging horrified looks (Raven in particular), he wanted to finish this up and get to sleep.

"Lie flat." Charles ordered. The man complied. "Wrists to the bedpost. Now." Charles slid the belt off the target and used it to secure his wrists. Not too tight, or too professional. This had to look like it might have been self-inflicted. "Are you comfortable?"

"Nnngh." Charles yanked the straps tighter, eliciting a gasp.

"Good. You know…" Charles picked a whip out of the briefcase and snapped it across the target's back. "Bad boys don't get to speak. They use such dirty, dirty, words." The man let out a moan. Charles snapped the whip over his back again.

Did Logan's kit come with a gag? Charles rifled through it and _yes_, there was one.

"This goes into your mouth." Charles carefully slid the gag in. The man was shaking with tension. Charles flicked the whip over the man's shoulders. "Stop moving."

"Grm." The gag seemed quite secure. Good. Then there was no way for him to scream.

"You are _such_ a bad boy, selling those guns. And to such poor people." The target's eyes suddenly widened. Charles straddled his back and reached around, closing his fingers over the target's nose. "And bad boys are always punished."

Sort of. Charles kept holding on, clamping his knees against the target's side to cut off airflow. With that gag in his mouth (a gag designed by Logan or Victor to cut off almost all airflow), it was possible that he would asphyxiate in less than five minutes.

Enough time for Charles to muse over where assassins fell on the scale of bad boys who would inevitably be punished. Did the need to feed five children factor in at all? Or was that negated by the fact that Charles was intelligent enough to work in a different field, had he not been born an Xavier?

The target stopped twitching. Charles checked his watch and got off the man. He removed the gag and replaced it with a pair of socks that might not have actually been able to suffocate someone. Nothing that could be traced to the Guild could be left behind, and it wasn't as if anyone would look closely. No one saw him enter the room, Logan had looped the security cameras for the few minutes between Charles leaving the elevator and Charles entering the room. The security guard had been drugged earlier that day, he wouldn't remember anything from the last few hours.

There was the other benefit of killing someone who sold guns - they were sure to have disabled the cameras in their room. Charles packed up his gear, put on his coat, and climbed out a window.

* * *

><p>"How much do you cost, baby?"<p>

"I can kill you with my bare hands." Charles got into the cab. "Trust Stryker to come up with that kind of password."

"The boss has a screw loose." Logan scowled and swung the vehicle into traffic. "At least you had something to do."

"I'm impressed you didn't decide to take out your knives and play target practice with the people leaving buildings across the street." Logan was silent. "Wolverine…"

"I didn't. I rewired the insides of the dashboard." Charles laughed.

"Well, if it's any consolation, the kit you gave me worked perfectly." Charles put it on the seat. "I assume you've still got my clothing?"

"Uh-huh." Logan tossed it back. "Can't show up at home wearing leather?"

"I'm uncomfortable and freezing." Charles said icily. And no, he couldn't show up at home in this get up. Erik was quite aware that Charles hadn't left in clothing like this, and would be quite interested in hearing exactly why office had some in supply.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, it's not like I'm asking where you live." Charles had a feeling that Logan would still very much like to know. Damn human curiosity.

"I won't ask if you don't." Charles flashed Logan a grin and began to change. Leather for slacks, fishnet for wool. In a matter of minutes, he was back to business casual and glad that the target didn't get any sweat on him. "Does Stryker need me to give a report now, or can it wait until morning?"

"It'll wait. I think the boss is asleep." Logan's voice conveyed deep resentment about that fact. Charles sighed in relief.

"Oh, thank God. Drop me where you found me, please." Charles settled against the window and stared at the city lights. Logan was breaking speed limits, but he really couldn't bring himself to care.

Charles wondered if Erik was awake. If any of the kids were having nightmares.

"Hey." Charles blinked and looked at Logan. "We're here."

"Ah. Thank you Wolverine." Charles got out.

"And whatever's bothering ya…" Wolverine frowned. "I'm sure it'll pass."

"Thanks." Charles flashed him a weary smile. Logan pulled away, and Charles waited until he'd seen the cab turn onto another street to get the minivan.

* * *

><p>"Shh, shh." Moira yipped, shoving her nose against his hands. Charles crouched down and scratched her head. "Quiet down girl."<p>

There was a light on in the kitchen. Charles frowned and hung up his coat, treading lightly. If that was someone other than Erik…

"You're still awake?" It was just Erik.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get an early start on the kids lunches." Erik smiled slightly. Charles felt guilty. "It's work, don't worry about it."

"I love you." Charles stepped forward and kissed his husband.

"Love you too." Erik frowned at Charles. "Are you okay?"

"Apart from being dragged out of bed to…" _kill someone _"convince a young man that he needed to get help, I'm fine. Are the kids all asleep?"

"They are." Erik wrapped his arms around Charles and sighed in a comfortable way. "Now let's get you to bed."

* * *

><p>Erik walked into work, and could feel the anger in the air. Azazel was sharpening his knives, a homicidal glint in his eyes. Emma was tapping her nails on the desk, lips pressed together. Riptide was pacing.<p>

"What happened?" Shaw answered him. Their boss was sitting with his fingers steepled under his chin, a contemplative expression on his face.

"The target was taken out last night." There was an undertone of anger in his voice. "They got the Professor in." Erik's hands formed fists. How many explosives had they wasted on that plane? "And unfortunately, no one was available to take out the Professor at the time."

Dammit. Erik should have been able to go. Except that Charles had been out of the house, and they could hardly leave all the kids alone. Huh. Charles was out while one of the most dangerous assassins in the world also roamed the streets.

Thank God Charles's office was nowhere near the hotel district.

**A/N: Review? Pwease?**

**And don't worry. Erik will be finding out that his innocent little husband isn't so innocent very, very, soon. Also, you may judge for yourself whether McAvoy would look hilarious, hot, or weird in that sort of get-up. I just found the idea of making him a prostitute fun. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Today is Fassy's birthday, and as a birthday present to him I got off my ass and finished…and he's never going to see this…and actually that train of logic made no sense at all. Whatever. Didja see that he won an Empire award? Go Fassy! (Also. His and James's incredible chemistry was because they had sex every morning. Why yes, I am quoting James McAvoy now. Youtube it, if only for James's snappy facial hair.)**

**Disclaimer: I own neither James McAvoy, nor Michael Fassbender, nor Brad Pitt, nor Angelina Jolie. Life is unfair ain't it?**

"Darling, hurry up!" Erik hopped down the hallway, pulling on his sock. Charles knocked on the bathroom door for the fourth time. "Raven, come on!"

"No! I've got a huge zit on my nose."

"No one will notice! Just dab on some concealer." Charles checked his watch. "Erik, go make sure Sean and Alex are in their proper coats." Erik jammed his shoes on and dashed down the hallway, swearing mentally at their alarm clock.

"Alex, Sean!" They were fighting over a pair of boots that didn't fit either of them, and in fact belonged to Hank. Erik pulled them apart. "Boys, get your coats on. Charles, did you get Raven out of the bathroom yet?"

"No. Raven, so help me, get over your zit right now or I will break down this door." There was the sound of a door banging open and feet pattering towards Raven's bedroom. Erik poked his head into the kitchen.

"Hank!" Their junior chemist jumped. "We're running late!"

"Yes, but I'm ready! So…" Hank gestured at the bubbling pot on the stove. Was that one of Erik's missing socks poking out of the top? "I had an idea!"

"Go put your coat on." Erik pulled the pot off the stove and put it in the fridge, nearly burning himself in the process. "And where's Angel?"

The girl flew into the kitchen, a purple purse in her hand.

"Brat!" Raven bolted in after her. "Give me back my makeup bag!"

"No!" Angel flung herself behind Erik's legs. "Dad, help me!"

"Raven, we're running late, you'll just have to go without makeup today." Erik took the bag from Angel and tossed it on the counter. "Angel, get your backpack. Raven, get _dressed_." Raven glared at him and whirled, stalking out the room like a tigress (who happened to be wearing snoopy pajamas).

"Erik?" Charles passed him his briefcase. "I've got the boys ready."

"Angel and Raven are in progress." Erik checked his watch. "How do you feel out speed limits?"

"Perhaps they are a bit voluntary." Charles muttered. He raised his voice. "Angel, Raven!"

"I'm here!" Angel yelled from the hallway. "Daddy, make Hank give me my gloves back!"

Charles disappeared to the crowded hallway. Erik followed in time to see Charles intimidate Hank into handing over Angel's gloves with one glare. Raven ran into the hallway a moment later, scowling.

"I look awful!" As far as Erik could see, she just looked casual.

"You look fine. Everyone to the car!" Charles herded the kids out, with Erik's help, and into the car. Erik got into the drivers seat and began assessing how many policemen would actually be on the roads.

* * *

><p>"Bye hun." Charles leaned over and kissed Erik. "Excellent driving."<p>

"Mmhmm." Erik chuckled and watched Charles enter his building, perhaps faster than he did most days. Oh, well. Everyone was late once in a while, Charles's people couldn't be that angry with him.

Erik's people, on the other hand…Erik floored the car.

* * *

><p>"You're late." Charles walked into the office.<p>

"Shut up Wolverine. Did Stryker send us our assignments?" Wolverine grinned.

"You bet. And you're just going to _love_ this."

* * *

><p>"One comment about lateness, and you die." Emma raised an eyebrow.<p>

"Don't worry, Shaw isn't in this morning. You and I are on assignment together."

* * *

><p>"Why, what is it?" Charles asked warily.<p>

* * *

><p>"We're going after a hostage the CIA is holding." Emma slid a photo across the table. "His name is Darwin, and we need to capture him alive, for information." Erik glanced over the photo.<p>

"What's the catch?"

* * *

><p>"And, to make things interesting, The Hellfire Club wants him too." Logan whirled a knife as he spoke. "They're sending the best people they've got, which means…"<p>

"Magneto." Charles bared his teeth in a grin. "Finally."

* * *

><p>"Oh, that's wonderful." Erik began loading guns. "Shaw will be thrilled to have that particular thorn in his side done with."<p>

And, Erik thought, there would be some personal satisfaction in it. No more bloody _Professor_ killing things before he got a chance to take them out.

* * *

><p>Charles leaned low over his motorcycle and followed Logan. They both had helmets on, ones that Stryker had "appropriated" from the CIA. The visors displayed infrared vision, topographical information, x rays, and building plans. They reminded Charles of his GPS but deadlier.<p>

He turned with Logan into a gate. Trust the CIA to do a hostage exchange outside an abandoned building complex.

"Which one is the Professor?" Erik muttered to Emma. They were crouched in one of the windows, having disposed of multitude of agents formerly occupying this building long ago.

"The little one." Emma replied. She was monitoring the radios. "The target will be here in minutes, they're cutting it very fine."

"Then let's get rid of them _now._" Erik raised one of his larger guns and focused on the smaller figure on the motorcycle.

Years and years of being in the assassination business was the only thing that saved Charles's life. He had instincts, and when they screamed at him to _turn_ Charles yanked on the handlebars, sending his tires squealing over the sidewalk. Gunfire rattled out.

Charles swore and braked, hard. He flung himself off the motorcycle and rolled, counting on the reinforced leather of his jacket and pants to protect him. None of his ribs broke, but Charles could feel the bruises already starting to form.

Dammit, Erik would see those, and it wouldn't be easy to pass them off as an unstable patient. Not unless the unstable patient somehow managed to hit his entire torso at once. Charles came to a stop, crouching and peering up at the windows. Somehow gravel had gotten into his helmet, and his visor was on the fritz, buzzing in his ears and sending flashes of light across his vision.

He did, however, manage to catch sight of two red figures in one of the windows.

"Professor!" Charles bolted to his feet and ran for Logan. Wolverine brought his bike around. Charles flung himself onto the back, locking his knees to the seat and drawing a pistol with his free hand.

"They're in the 3rd window to the left!" Charles shouted. He turned to look at it, visor still beeping and crackling. Charles began shooting.

"Down!" Emma hit the concrete floor with Erik as the bullets thundered over their heads.

"Dammit." Erik muttered. He'd hoped that being flung off a motorcycle would deter the man. Emma got to one knee and returned fire.

"Logan, head for cover!" Charles called. Logan veered around a spray of bullets, just barely getting out of the way in time.

"You don't say?" Logan sent the motorcycle flying through a doorway and into the building, where he brought it to a screeching halt. Charles unlocked one arm from Logan's shoulder, using it to draw another firearm.

"They're inside." Emma breathed. She switched her Uzi for a smaller gun.

"I lead. Cover my back." Erik muttered, stalking from the room.

"I'm going in deeper." Logan said. Charles grabbed his arm.

"Wait." He hissed. "Let them come to us."

Erik and Emma headed through the building, sticking to corners and doorframes. Erik knew exactly what The Professor was playing at. There was only one stairway in this damned building, and the elevator was broken. The Guild was waiting at the bottom of the steps to gun them down if they tried descending.

"This way." Emma muttered. "There's an elevator."

"It's _broken_." Erik blinked. Then grinned.

"They're not coming." Logan growled. Charles shook his head.

"They have to." He shook his head irritably as the feedback from his helmet buzzed again. Charles pulled it off. There, that felt far better.

"I hear something." Logan froze. Charles waited. "Oh fucking fuck. Get down!"

The elevator doors exploded open. Two figures leapt out. Charles flung himself down, feeling a bullet whiz just past his ear.

"Wolverine, fall back!" Charles rolled behind the motorcycle and returned fire. They would have him in seconds, just by the bullets that were richoting off the walls. Goddammit, firefights in confined spaces were the height of idiocy. If he only had some damned grenades, he could wipe these two out right now and buy himself some time…Charles _did_ have a motorcycle with a full tank of gas, and a lighter.

Erik swore and leapt to the side as an explosion rocked the room. He ducked behind a corner, panting. Emma was next to him, her once immaculate blonde hair now falling around her face in sweaty strands.

"I'm going to kill that fucker." Erik gritted out. "Cover me."

He ducked around the corner and began shooting. The smaller figure who had been crouching in the doorway bolted, clearly trying to gain ground and find a better shooting point.

Oh, hell no. If The Professor got the high ground...Erik realized with a surge of horror that Angel's Star Wars obsession was starting to affect his worldview. And that he needed to keep his mind on the fact that _duck_. Erik fell to his knees as a knife swished over his head. There was a quick patter of feet as Erik fired down the hallway. Erik followed the sound, counting on Emma to take care of the partner.

They emerged into the center of the complex. Erik snatched up his last gun - he'd used up far too much ammunition in the last few minutes - and ran forward. The Professor whirled and pulled another gun, flicking off the safety and pointing it at Erik's head.

"Erik?"

"Charles?"

"Do you two know each other?" Logan asked sharply. He was limping along in Charles's wake, having caught one of Emma's bullets in the leg. Emma was just behind Erik, bleeding from a cut in her cheek.

"You're the _Professor?_"

"You just tried to kill me!"

"You tried to kill me too!"

Logan and Emma exchanged an extremely confused look. Since shooting each other was, at present, not an option (not when the most dangerous people in the world were pointing guns at each other's foreheads), they decide that perhaps waiting this one out was the wisest course of action.

"Yes, but you shot a _machine gun_ at my _bike_!"

"Which you later set on fire and rolled at me!"

"That was Wolverine's bike. Mine exploded, and are you going to keep pointing that gun at my head? It's frankly rude."

"God, you two sound like an old married couple." Emma muttered. Charles flushed. Erik cringed. "Oh my God."

"You're fucking kidding." Wolverine deadpanned. Charles sighed and lowered his gun, slowly. Erik's arm went down, though his grip didn't lessen.

"Erik, we will discuss this _later_." By Charles's tone, that later would not end well for Erik. He took one wary step backwards. "Wolverine, come on. The CIA won't be letting the hostage within fifty miles of this place after all that gunfire."

"Right." Wolverine began to back away with Charles. Erik and Emma mirrored them, taking small steps and never turning their backs on the Guild members. Eventually, they reached the cover of thebuilding. Charles bolted into a run, moving around corners on light feet and doing his best to make their passage random. "You know that they blew up our bikes, right?"

"I saw a truck on the other side of the building when we did the perimeter sweep." Charles responded. "I assume you can get it started."

Wolverine grunted. The truck, for all that it was dented and barely serviceable, made an adequate vehicle. Wolverine, who would have been a fine mechanic, had it running within ten minutes.

"So." Wolverine commented, once they were on the way out. "You're married." He coughed. "To Magneto."

"Believe me, this is comes as a shock to me as well." Charles ground out.

"Stryker is not going to be pleased." Wolverine predicted.

"I'm aware of that, Logan." Wolverine stiffened. Charles sighed. "I looked up your background years ago. Stryker needed me to make sure that you didn't have any skeletons that might haunt The Guild."

"And he didn't notice that you had a husband who just tried to kill us both?" Charles just shook his head. He had done a background check. He'd hacked into highly classified _government_ records, and Erik checked out completely. Heh. Of course he did, The Hellfire Club kept their agents in deep cover. "Stryker isn't letting you go home tonight."

"I have to." Charles groaned. "I have five children who need to be picked up from school."

"Christ." Logan muttered. "How old?"

"The youngest is in kindergarten, and my oldest daughter is battling with entrance to high school." There was no way any of them could cope with going into foster care. Charles groaned again.

"Well, I won't tell Stryker about it." Logan said. Charles jerked his head up in surprise. "You've saved my ass plenty of times, I'll lie for you just once."

"I…thank you." Charles said gratefully.

* * *

><p>"Erik, what the hell?" Erik ignored Emma. She flung herself into the passenger seat of the car. "Your <em>husband?<em>"

"Shut up." Erik's mind was working at a thousand miles a minute. Charles was an assassin, Charles had killed people, Charles had almost killed _him_. Charles had lied to him for years and years, but about how much? "Don't tell Shaw about this."

"I already did." Emma narrowed her eyes. "There's got to be a way to swing this for our profit."

"We're not swinging anything." Erik said flatly. "This is just…"

"The single most screwed up situation I have encountered?" Emma said sweetly.

"Shut up." Erik repeated. The rest of the drive to headquarters went by in silence.

"Ah, Magneto." Shaw had personally come in, cutting whatever prior engagement he had short. "Emma has told me the most distressing news about your marital status."

Erik stayed silent.

"You realize, this puts us in an awkward position." Shaw steepled his fingers. "We can't possibly let this continue." Erik could deal with that. He could make a living doing something other than being an assassin. "Kill him."

"_What_?" Erik went rigid. "I'm not killing him!"

"You were perfectly willing to this morning." Shaw said calmly.

"I'm not doing it." Erik shook his head. There was no way. He couldn't just kill…Charles was _Charles._ And God, what about their kids?

"Let me make this clear." Shaw stared at him. "Kill him, or we will kill you. Then, we will kill your children, who will no doubt welcome death after both of their parents have been murdered."

Erik swallowed. All of their kids were orphans who had already been in foster care. Sure, not since they were very young, but this would take traumatized to a whole new level.

"Besideswhich, for all you know, he's planning on doing the same thing." Emma added.

* * *

><p>He walked into his home as if things were normal.<p>

"Dad!" Sean bounded up to him. "Guess what I learned in school today?"

"What?" Erik scanned the hall for traps. Charles wouldn't have put mines in with the kids around, but a spring-loaded gun, aimed at Erik's head, far above the children…

"How to draw a ladybug! Wanna see?"

"Mmmhhmm. Where's your father?"

"He's in the kitchen." Sean tugged his hand. "Dad, I made a ladybug."

"Where are your siblings?"

"I dunno." Sean tugged him again. "Dad, I made a ladybug."

"Mmm." Erik began to stalk towards the kitchen. True, the five year old clinging to him made his usual soundless steps rather less than soundless, but that also meant Charles wouldn't throw a grenade at him. He warily peered around the corner.

"Okay and so Mary, who is just an absolute bit I mean witch told him that I hadn't _done_ my slides for the powerpoint, when I was the only one who even did the stupid work except _she_ decided to give me the wrong email address, oh and my teacher is apparently pregnant so now we get to have a sub." Raven was sitting on the counter next to Charles, ranting about something that had to do with school. Angel was perched next to them, and was passing Charles random items from the cabinets. "Hey Dad!"

"Daddy!" Angel leapt from the counter into his arms. Erik hugged her, scanning the ingredients on the counter. "Daddy's making us curry for dinner!"

That would be perfect for concealing the taste of poison. Charles smiled at him sweetly.

"Did you have a good day at work, honey?"

"It was quite interesting. Not at all what I expected." Charles's hand hadn't strayed far from his left leg. Erik could just spy the bulge of a knife under the fabric. "And yours?"

"Eye opening." Charles began slicing an onion. Raven wrinkled her nose.

"Seriously Daddy?"

"Criticize it once you've eaten it." Charles responded.

"Daddy, I have a picture of a ladybug!" Sean repeated, still pulling his hand.

"Very nice." Erik barely glanced at the picture. He was too busy trying to make sure that Charles didn't find a way to slip poison into the curry. True, the children would eat it too, but Charles could slip them antidote without any difficulty. "Where are Hank and Alex?"

"Hank is doing a puzzle in the living room, and Alex is playing with his truck. Why don't you go supervise?" Charles said, his tone overly polite. Raven glanced between the two of them.

"You know, I've got loads of homework." She said. "Angel, want to come read while I study?"

"No!" Angel pouted. "I wanna help Daddy cook."

"What a good idea." Erik grinned darkly at Charles. "Angel, why don't you sample the food for us?"

"Okay!" There. Charles wouldn't dare poison one of the kids. Erik clearly didn't know anything about the man he'd married, but he was certain that Charles would rather step into the path of an 18 wheeler than hurt their kids. Erik retreated to the living room, where he kept his eyes on the door at all times and let the children play amongst themselves. The house got progressively quieter.

* * *

><p>"Here you go." Charles put a plate down in front of Raven. "Now you can criticize."<p>

Raven took a bite. "Okay, maybe I was wrong."

"Thank you." Charles put a plate in front of Erik.

"Thanks, darling." Erik poked the food with his fork. Damn, how many undetectable poisons did he have antidotes for in the house? Not nearly enough.

"Daddy, how come you aren't eating?" Sean piped up. Charles eyed Erik. Erik noticed that Charles hadn't taken a bite either, even though he hadn't left the food unmonitored for a second.

"I'm not hungry." Erik said. Charles's eyes flicked over his food. "Not in the least."

The rest of the meal passed with only the sound of the children's silverware scraping.

Erik rose as soon as the kids looked done. "Bedtime is early tonight."

"Why?" Hank asked.

"You might need to be up early tomorrow morning." Charles softly supplied. Erik nodded agreement. "Now, into bed."

Erik took on the job of herding Raven and Angel. Angel went compliantly enough, and by the noise, Erik guessed that the boys had sensed that Charles was in no mood for bartering or bathtub play.

"And in the big woods Laura spent her days. The end." Erik got up from the edge of Angel's bed. She was still awake, looking at him with big dark worried eyes. "Only one story tonight Angel."

"But you made it shorter." Erik had in fact edited out several paragraphs and whatever dialogue he felt unnecessary to the plot.

"That's just your imagination." He patted her shoulder. "Get some sleep."

"Dad?" Raven asked from the doorway. She was back in her snoopy pajamas, and had managed to dig out her old stuffed shark. "Are…are you and Daddy having a fight?"

"Of course not Raven." Erik kissed her forehead. "We just have some things to talk about."

"Okay." Raven still looked uncertain, but she got into bed and flicked off the light.

Erik padded into the kitchen. Charles was already there, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch.

"I assume you're armed." Charles said. Erik pulled the gun out of his pants and laid it on the counter. Charles sighed and reached down, sliding a knife out of his boot. He put it next to the bottle. "I didn't poison your food."

"Nice to hear. And the liquor?"

"Clean." Charles took a sip.

"Somehow, I don't believe you." Erik crossed his arms. "So. What shall we do about this."

"Were you aware?"

"No. The Guild's ability to put people into deep cover is quite impressive." Erik didn't move his hand away from the gun.

"We can't talk about this here." Charles said abruptly. "None of them are asleep yet."

"Can we get a babysitter for tomorrow night?" Erik smiled coldly. "I know a few nice restaurants where our options can be discussed."

"I'll call Oliver." Charles took a gulp of wine. "Until such time as our options are made clear, can we agree to not go after each other?"

"I'll try to restrain myself." Erik said dryly.

"Good." Charles downed the rest of the glass. "You can sleep on the couch tonight."

"No." Erik said softly. "This might be the last time our kids have both of us, we should at least pretend it's normal for them."

"You're probably right." Charles smiled grimly.

* * *

><p>Erik slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He hadn't been this hyper aware of what Charles was doing in their bedroom since the first time he'd spent the night at the other man's place, and even then this tension hadn't been present.<p>

He heard the clink as Charles's belt hit the floor, and a swish of fabric as his pants followed. There was a slick noise that couldn't be anything but a knife being drawn. Erik's lips quirked up. So Charles really didn't trust him.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

Erik pulled his turtleneck off and listened to the covers rustle as Charles got into bed. Erik slowly eased himself into bed next to his husband, a machete handle gripped in one hand. He'd stored the thing in the mattress the first time he slept in this bed.

Charles lay curled up on the other side of the bed. Erik stared up at the ceiling. They'd lived in this house for years, he already knew every crack - once, he and Charles spent a day in bed just finding pictures in the stains (and doing other less innocent things). Charles still claimed the Mona Lisa was in there.

This was not right. Erik knew perfectly well that letting his guard down to the point of being half naked next to an _enemy_ was insanity of the highest level. And that holding a machete in case his _husband_ moved toward him during the night was equally insane.

Erik didn't sleep that night, and judging by Charles's breathing, neither did he.

**A/N: Who, you might ask, is Oliver in the actual movie? Well, do you remember that random CIA guy who agreed to take them to the special facility, and got killed by Azazel? **

**On Imbd, he's listed as "Man in Black Suit". I liked this poor guy! And apparently, not even the writers gave him a name. So he gets a cameo as a babysitter (partially because I can't think of a character from the movie I haven't used already, partially because he deserved better than not even getting a mention after he was killed. The poor guy.), and the actor's name is Oliver Platt, and so I named him Oliver. **

**Oh and hey, review? I hope the action sequence wasn't too confusing. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Uh. Hi. Nope, this fic isn't abandoned. Just…delayed. A bit. A lot. But it's still going. I will finish it, and the next gap won't be nearly as long. Scout's honor.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own X-Men, don't own Mr. and Mrs. Smith.**

"Remember, no kicking anyone. The Tonka trucks aren't worth it." Erik instructed.

"Yeah, Dad." Alex grumbled. He was already looking over at the playground, clearly sizing up the kids currently occupying the swingset. "I know."

"So you claim." Erik dropped to one knee and hugged him. He glanced over at Charles. If this was the last time Alex saw his other father alive, Erik wanted the moment to be memorable. "Charles?"

"Try not to be angry." Charles knelt and hugged Alex too. He rose and ruffled the boy's hair, smiling. Alex blinked up at him. "Okay?"

"O…kay." Alex frowned at them both. Erik plastered a smile to his face and waved Alex on. With a final confused glance, Alex jogged out to the swings. Charles exhaled.

"I take it that your demands for me to give worldly advice to each of our children before sending them off to school means you don't plan on dropping in at home before dinner."

"Why bother?" Erik said coldly. "Oliver knows his way around well enough, and I told him to pick them up from school when I called. I'd rather get straight to business."

"Mmhmm." Charles turned. It didn't fully expose his back to Erik, and Erik noted that Charles thought he'd have no compunctions about starting a shooting match in the middle of an elementary school playground. Perhaps he'd heard about the Nanny in Shanghai. "I'm afraid I need to get to work. You can take the van."

"Why thank you." Erik walked with Charles to the entrance of the parking lot. There was a blue car already there, presumably dropped off by one of Charles's fellow agents. Erik watched Charles drive away.

As soon as his husband was out of sight, he got to work. Erik lowered himself onto his back and wormed his way beneath the car.

Heh. Charles had planted no less than _five_ trackers on it, one wedged by the front wheel, one just under the trailing arm, another two magnetically attached to the sides, and a quite ingenious contraption that he'd somehow managed to weld to the axis in the brief moment when Erik had taken his eyes off Charles to get Angel's backpack out of the trunk.

"Did you get them all?" Only long practice kept Erik from knocking his head against the engine. He slid out from under the car and eyed Emma, who was staring down at him. "And why in the world are you parked outside of…" she eyed the sign. "Westchester Elementary?"

"Three of my kids go here." Erik snapped. Emma blinked.

"You have kids?"

"Shaw didn't tell you?"

"No." Emma pursed her lips. "Well. At least they'll grow up with one father."

Erik took a deep breath. "Be quiet and get in the car."

"Do you have an assault plan?" Emma inquired as she got in. Erik ignored the incredulous look she shot at the backseats. If the woman had expected pristine conditions in a minivan, she wasn't nearly as smart as her rather impressive kill list claimed.

"Yes." Erik's grip on the steering wheel went white knuckled. "Go, get the magnum hunting rifle, and gun him down when he walks into the restaurant where we'll be meeting. I've got the sniper point all picked out."

"He's got to be expecting that." Emma murmured.

"No. I don't think so." Erik said quietly.

"Well, he's quite clearly expecting _something_." Emma said sharply. "Red Toyota Camry, two lanes over. Check the driver in your mirror."

Erik reached over to adjust the rear view mirror, angling it to the right so that for a split second, it passed over the lane Emma indicated. The split second was enough to tell that Charles was driving.

"I thought you got all of them." Emma said dryly. Erik swore. He'd wanted to take Charles out from a distance, do it that he didn't have to see Charles's face, or hear the bullet shattering his skull. Of course Charles wasn't going to let him do it the easy way.

"Apparently, I should give him more credit." Erik groaned. "I don't know what he wants."

"To _take you out_, like any sane assassin would. Whatever he told you before, he was lying." Emma hissed. She drew a pistol from an ankle holster and laid it in her lap. "If you swerve and brake, I can hit him."

"He's too good and you know it." Erik was willing to bet Raven's college fund that the Toyota had been bulletproofed. "We keep going."

"Where?" Emma didn't put away the pistol.

"To the facility, of course." Erik took a deep breath. "We give him what he wants."

**Line break**

"_Professor, are you still hearing me?"_

"Loud and clear, Wolverine." Charles stopped adjusting the Bluetooth in his ear. "Loud and clear."

"_Cameras show that a woman I'm guessing is the White Queen has joined him."_ Charles's eyebrows flew up.

"You hacked into the carcam that fast?"

"_I can see every move they're making. White Queen has taken out weaponry…she isn't firing. Looks like she's just taking precautions."_ Charles could hear Wolverine's appreciatory grunt and easily imagine the man sitting with his feet on his desk, watching the screens. Charles had put the carcam in when Erik had to look away to check for a turn, and it was working out swimmingly.

"Good. I'll keep you clued in until they've reached their base."

"_You sure following 'em in is a good plan, Prof?"_ Logan sounded doubtful. _"I'd bet my balls that their base is rigged."_

"No doubt. But there never was a proper recon mission without a bit of risk to it." Charles took a deep breath and kept driving as Erik pulled into a parking lot. "They're at the Wins Reality building, at the junction of Baas and Haste."

"_Be careful out there, Chuck."_ If Charles wasn't focused on reconnaissance, he might have spared a second to be amused that Logan had already given him a nickname. _"The Hellfire club has a nasty reputation."_

**Line break**

"He's entering the building." Emma sat at a computer on the uppermost floor. Erik stood just behind her, watching as the security feed showed Charles entering the building. Charles looked…dare he say it, cute, with the electrician's garb he'd changed into. It perfectly disguised the gun that hung below Charles's left arm.

"He hacked the lock?" Emma sniffed.

"He knocked out the receptionist and stole her keys." Emma's hands moved over the keyboard, and the security feed switched, to where Charles stood in the elevator. Erik watched as Charles crouched down and removed the panel below the buttons.

"Charles." He pressed down on the PA button. Charles slowly looked up. "I'm reasonably confident that you don't work here."

"Erik." Charles said.

Erik took a deep breath. "This is your _only_ warning, dear husband. Go home."

"I think I'd rather stay." Charles peered up into the security camera.

"You do realize where you are? In a metal box suspended a hundred feet off the ground, right in the jaws of the most feared assassin's club to ever grace the world?" Erik smiled grimly. "Consider your position."

"The _second_ most feared." Charles corrected him. Emma snorted softly. "I wasn't idiotic enough to think that this wasn't at trap. Darling."

"Oh, really."

"I hope you've noticed that you _continually_ underestimate me. You honestly thought I'd only rig six obvious trackers in the car?" Emma shot Erik a look. Erik ignored her. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Oh, but that runs both ways." Erik said into the speaker. "You don't know half of the things I've done."

"Let me guess." Charles looked right up at the camera. It was disturbing how well he'd managed to capture Erik's eyes when they were floors apart. "You rigged it with an explosive on the primary and secondary cables, with one on the counterbalance and another just in case the brakes don't fail."

"He's _good_." Emma muttered. Erik shot her an irritated look.

"And the base charge on the principle cable?" Charles froze, then looked to the ceiling. "Listen. If you promise to leave town, to get out right now, we can forget any of this ever happened."

"Magneto." Emma hissed. Erik ignored her.

"We go our separate ways. But if you don't stop it with this persistence…I'm blowing it." Erik's mouth was dry. Charles tipped his head to the side, eyes going up to the ceiling where the charge was wedged.

"Fine." Erik let out a sigh of relief. "I give up."

"What?"

"Come on then, blow it." Charles stepped back. "It's your only option now, I believe."

"Do you think I won't?" Erik demanded. Charles raised his eyebrows.

"I know you won't." Charles smiled in that infuriating way that usually made Erik want to push him against a wall and have his way with the man.

"Well." Erik crossed his arms. "Five."

Charles kept smiling.

"Four. Three." Erik paused. "Any last words?"

"You aren't nearly as good at fellatio as you think you are."

"Two." Erik fought down a smile. "Goodbye, Charles."

The explosion was big enough that Erik felt the shock of it through the floors. The security feed turned into a crackling gray screen as another shockwave rippled up, that one from the elevator hitting the bottom of the building.

"What the hell was that?" Erik breathed.

"You said goodbye." Emma said with a shrug. Erik stared at the

**Line break**

"_Chuck?"_ Wolverine asked sharply, as for a second the earpiece fizzled.

"Here." Charles said tightly. "The recon was successful. I've got all the information I need."

He uncrossed the wires just below the security camera and stepped out of the second elevator, back into the lobby.

**Line break**

"Osteria Francescana" was one of the pricier restaurants in town. Great food - really, the best Italian in town - soft lighting, balconies overlooking the tables and a slick floor in the center of it all, where the band played a tango and a few couples were dancing.

It also had good scotch. Erik downed another glass, feeling his throat burn. He held up the glass and tapped the side, waiting for another tuxedoed waiter to show up and fill it.

"Grieving already? I suppose I should be touched." Charles slid into the seat across from Erik. He'd swapped the electrician's wear for a perfectly tailored tux - he probably wouldn't have been let in the door without it. "I love the tux. All black."

"I'm in mourning." Erik said quietly, his eyes flickering over Charles's absolutely not blown up body. A waiter filled his scotch glass.

"Pour vous?" Charles didn't take his eyes off Erik. The man wasn't even singed, he must not have been in the elevator at all.

"Whiskey, si vous plait." Charles slid a hand into his coat pocket. Erik watched as Charles slipped a napkin off the table and onto his lap. There was the obvious sound of a gun cocking. "I want a divorce."

"Classy. I proposed here, as I recall." Erik sipped his scotch.

"I remember." Charles didn't smile.

"What do you want?" Erik asked. "Apart from the divorce, I mean."

"We have a most unusual problem." Charles learned forward. "You obviously want me dead, and though I confess, my concern for your welfare is steadily decreasing, we have five children that still need at least one of us."

"Would you prefer to just shoot it out here?" Erik moved his hand down, to where his own gun was holstered. "My previous knowledge of your personality suggests that you'd prefer for there not to be innocent bystanders but at this point, I've no idea what goes on in your head."

"No. They'd ask me to leave once you'd died." Charles tipped back the glass. Erik watched his throat move as he swallowed the whiskey. Damn, but his husband still looked good in a tux after all these years.

"Dance with me."

Charles went still. "We haven't had a chance to dance together in years."

"I don't see anyone stopping us." That was another thing they'd always enjoyed about this restaurant. Erik rose to his feet and held out a hand. "Coming?"

"If you insist." They moved onto the floor. Charles was pressed close to Erik. "I don't think this story has a happy ending."

"Happy endings are stories that haven't finished yet." Erik turned in a circle with Charles. Moving suddenly, and with the speed that had reputedly killed no less than five Vatican members, Charles shoved him backwards, taking the lead for just long enough to crush Erik against a pillar and slide the knife out of his trousers. He flicked it away, into a nearby table leg.

"Not bad." Erik took Charles back out to the center of the floor, away from troublesome pillars. He slid a hand down Charles's leg, moving until he Erik could feel his knees brushing the cold floor. As suspected, Charles had a gun attached to his ankle. Erik kicked it away and smiled up at Charles.

"I'd forgotten how romantic dancing was." Charles murmured, as Erik raised himself back up, keeping Charles pressed close. They took another sharp step. Erik snickered as he felt a hand sifting in his crotch.

"You've been down there enough to know that it's all me." Charles's hand re emerged from his waistline, snaking back up around Erik's neck.

"Why do you think our marriage is failing, Erik?" Charles asked, as Erik swept them round again. "Because it was only a cover for other nefarious activities? Did the kids dull us down? Or was it just all the lies?"

"I wasn't aware we were failing."

"I do believe that attempted murder of one's spouse counts as failure." Charles said in an undertone.

"But the sex was great." Erik purred.

Charles arched an eyebrow. "Now is hardly the time."

"This is your last night on earth. Might as well make it memorable."

"I hope you know that I'm not letting that happen." Charles's eyes were very cold. "I may have suffered some delusions about my husband, but I'm certain that the Hellfire club has no agents beneath the age of ten."

Erik closed his eyes. "I know exactly why we fail."

"Oh, do you now?"

"It is just barely possible to maintain a relationship whilst one is in deep cover. But it becomes impossible once cover is outed." Erik pulled Charles close and murmured in his ear. "Darling."

Charles pushed him off. "I-I have to go."

"Dammit." Erik muttered. He watched as Charles hurried away to the restrooms, wiping at his face. Thank God Charles hadn't broken down and begun to cry in front of him. Erik could never say a word against Charles once the man began to cry - it hadn't happened often in their relationship, but the second Charles became that upset, Erik always found himself falling all over himself trying to apologize.

A man bolted from the restrooms, his fly undone. Erik's eyebrows rose.

Then a second man went running out, this one with his belt unbuckled and his pants only held up by one hand, and another man who looked like a waiter ran with him. Erik suddenly felt a horrible suspicion. He flung himself down and rolled under a table.

_Boom._

The explosion was mostly smoke, Erik realized, as he rolled out from under the table and held a hand over his eyes. He searched the fleeing mob, trying to get a glimpse of…aha. He recognized the back of Charles's head, and a momentary flash of blue eyes as Charles glanced back.

Then his husband was lost in the crowd, probably already on the street and to his car.

_Dammit, where the hell is he going?_

No matter where Charles was going, Erik needed to get to him first. Shaw wanted Charles dead as soon as possible. Erik headed for his car, wondering where the Guild held their weapon's caches. Charles didn't have anything on him, but if he could get an assault rifle and a proper vantage point, Erik was royally fucked.

Erik ran out onto the street and turned his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of the car. He couldn't see a thing.

"Excuse me." The waiter from before said. His eyes were wide. "But you're _ticking._"

That minx of a man. Erik patted himself down, trying to figure out where on him Charles could have planted it. He rolled his eyes and shoved a hand down his pants, ignoring the waiter's surprised squawk. His hand emerged with a small device clutched in his fist, which Erik immediately thrust into the nearest mailbox.

The mailbox shook with another explosion. Erik hurried for his car, dodging the authorities with the expertise that came of long practice.

He got behind the wheel, and the obvious occurred to him. Erik dialed Charles's cellphone.

Charles picked up after the first ring.

"Where are you headed?" Erik asked bluntly.

"To get what matters." _The kids._

Dammit, dammit, dammit, Charles was going back to the house. If he got there then he'd get the children and run, and Erik would have to hunt Charles down and it would be nearly impossible, and besides which if Erik didn't get this done soon Shaw would probably send people after them…he pressed down on the gas pedal.

"The bank. I should have guessed." Erik lied, as he swung the car round in a highly illegal manner. He could hear Charles's pause over the phone, and prayed that Charles would buy the act.

"Tell me, what did you first think of me when we met?" Charles asked.

"You first." If Erik could keep Charles talking…

"I thought…it was like being at one of those book carts in the park, and looking through the self help books just for laughs, and then coming across a first edition copy of Return of the King, with Tolkien's signature in the front cover. I don't know how else to describe the feeling, though that certainly isn't adequate." Charles took a deep breath. "And you?"

"I thought…" It had been like being a little kid again, and being in the dark on the last night of Hanukah, with all the candles on the menorah lit up. "I thought that you were the most exquisite target I had ever seen."

"All that time. It's a bit impressive, I must say. I never pictured this to be the end of our marriage."

"Nor I." _Kids, kids, think of the kids, think of Shaw slitting Charles's throat while they watch._

"I'll be seeing you, Erik." Charles hung up.

Erik stared at the phone for a second, imagining Charles coming after him to hunt him down. The image was…unappealing. Only the blare of a car horn and the realization that he'd just nearly forced a car off the road brought Erik back to reality.

**Line break**

Erik parked the car at the end of the block and took the back way to get to their house, mentally thanking their neighbors for not bothering to actually put things other than large bushes in their gardens. He ended up crouched beneath a rhododendron, scoping out the house as best he could without any sort of night vision goggles.

The lights were all out. He could see Sean's room from the yard, and there was no telltale glowing purple light to show that the nightlight was on. Sean _screamed_ without his nightlight, so…Erik crept forward. There were no cars in the driveway.

Charles must have gotten them out. He'd have entrusted them to Oliver, who Erik knew for a fact wasn't on Hellfire club records, and Oliver would have taken them somewhere safe.

But…Erik caught just a glimpse of movement. His eyes narrowed.

So, Charles was still inside. Erik slid round the yard, sticking to the ridiculous hydrangeas and rosebushes that Charles had insisted on cultivating. He managed to get round to the other side of the house, where the office room (a tiny space with a desk and a computer, only there because Charles insisted that having a computer in the living room alongside the television would impede family bonding) was located.

Erik boosted himself up and looked though the window. The room was dark, and the door closed. He smiled grimly and took off his tie. Once it was wrapped around his knuckles, he smashed in a pane of glass and, with a minimal amount of grunting, opened the window and let himself in.

He slid beneath the computer and groped for the screwdriver which could always be found beneath the desk somewhere. Erik swore softly as he managed to bang his knuckles on it.

It was unprofessional to make a noise just because of pain, but Erik knew perfectly well that this room was secure. Charles detested the computer with a passion normally saved for old men who leered at Raven, thus the task of fixing the printer/fixing Word/fixing the internet connection/pointing out to Charles that he'd managed to kick the plug out always went to Erik. That had somehow led to Charles quite often walking in to find Erik on his back amidst a bunch of wires, muttering under his breath as he tried to find the right cables.

That had led to the room being soundproofed. It had also led to Erik putting all the emergency weapons into the computer, stashed in a compartment he'd installed just behind the monitor. It was a space safe from the younger children, who associated this room with being forced to listen to a long lecture from Charles about why doing research by book was better than the internet, and safe from the elder, who all ended up sharing Raven's laptop anyway, due to the fact that this computer was old and clunky enough that Erik could put a special compartment into the monitor and it would go unnoticed.

Erik found the screwdriver and leaned over, carefully opening up the compartment. Inside were a few of basic handguns (after a few years of marriage, Erik had lost some of the paranoia that he'd be attacked at home and taken out the explosive rounds) and ammunition. He loaded them and slid them into his jacket pockets.

Well, that was something at least. He was no longer unarmed.

He slowly opened the door. There was no movement from the hallway. Perhaps Charles was upstairs. Erik stalked out, carrying a pistol in one hand. He moved like a shadow down the hall. Unfortunately, shadows were apparently still affected by creaky floorboards.

_Brrapaptaptpatpatpatpatpa_

Erik threw himself down as machine gunfire rang out. It shredded the wall between him and the stairwell, where Charles was crouching.

A _machine gun?_ Where the _hell_ had Charles been hiding a _machine gun?_

"Still alive?" Charles called. Erik, who was very much alive, whimpered and let his gun fall to the floor with a clunk. There was a pause. "Erik?"

He heard the scuffle of Charles's feet moving down the staircase, and scrambled up to return fire. Charles swore and flung himself down, landing in a shooters stance on the next landing. Erik turned and bolted as another rattle of gunfire ripped through the wall.

The next room over was the living room. Erik flung himself behind the couch. He could hear Charles reloading, and grimaced, hoping that Charles didn't have more than a few rounds. Surely there was nowhere he could have actually stored that much high caliber ammo…

There was the faintest of noises just outside the living room. Charles was coming. Erik cast around for something to distract Charles with, to buy himself some time to get to a more defensible position.

Charles stalked into the room a few seconds later, machine gun held tight against his body. His eyes searched the darkened room. He stepped forward.

"_Fuck!"_ Charles swore. From behind the couch, Erik chuckled.

Thank God the boys never ever listened when Erik told them to put away their legos. And thank God bare feet were the only way to move about their creaky house without being detected.

Cackling, Erik ran for the kitchen. Charles tried to turn around to fire after him, but only ended up swearing again and missing (tearing apart the couch and blowing up the television in the process) thanks to the legos Erik had scattered over every inch of the carpeting.

Erik took a position just behind the counter, in front of the stove. He noticed that the fridge was open, all the drawers pulled…ah. Of course. Charles had stored his guns in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. That didn't even surprise him.

And judging by the sudden silence from the living room, Charles had gotten out of the lego trap. Erik turned to that his back was to the stove and began to fiddle it's inner mechanics with one hand. The other hand kept the gun pointed directly at the door.

Charles was circling the kitchen, Erik guessed. He was moving around to the other door, where he might be able to get a clear shot at Erik, and once there he'd gun Erik down. It was a good thing Charles had always preferred cooking on gas stoves.

He saw Charles's shadow at the other door and flung himself around the counter as Charles slid in, gun roaring. Erik took an enormous leap and flung himself out of the kitchen and around the corner.

The explosion of gunfire meets suddenly open gas jet roared out of the kitchen. Erik put his hands over his ears and waited for the flames to die down before getting to his feet.

He sniffed. There was no odor of roasting flesh. As someone who'd overseen quite a few explosions he was sure that that one hadn't been enough to vaporize Charles, and if he wasn't burning then…

Erik ducked as a fist came out of nowhere. He whirled and tried to slam an elbow into Charles's stomach while bringing his gun hand up, but Charles was far too fast, and quite suddenly, a bare foot was kicking Erik's hand hard enough to force him to drop the gun. Charles lunged after it. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles's waist and hauled him back. Charles twisted, and one of his feet sent the gun flying away from them both.

"Be careful with that Charles." Erik panted against the man's next. He tried to get his hands into the proper position to break Charles's ribs. "It's a bit too dangerous for you."

"Fuck you." Charles twisted out of Erik's arms and threw a punch at him. Erik staggered back as despite his attempts at dodging, it glanced his chin. Charles swore as his fist hit the wall, cracking the plaster.

Erik launched himself at Charles, shoving the other man backwards and into the closer confines of the entrance hall. Hopefully there, Charles wouldn't be able to maneuver. Charles snarled and bit Erik's arm.

"_Dammit!_" Erik scrambled back. Charles, eyes blazing, took a stance and kicked at Erik's kneecap. Erik moved and grabbed Charles's leg, yanking the man to the floor. Charles, panting, tried to wriggled free. His pants tore and Charles was up on his feet, leaving Erik holding the remains of what had once been a classy pair of slacks.

He hung back, assessing Charles. The man was breathing heavily, and no longer wearing the jacket of his tux - it had probably caught fire in the explosion. Nor did he still have the machine gun. But the absolute fury in his eyes suggested that Charles not having a gun anymore suited the man just fine.

Charles moved for him first, with a punch aimed at his ribcage. Erik realized too late that it was a feint, and groaned as a vase that was normally used to hold keys cracked over his head. He grabbed Charles by the waist and threw him against the wall, grabbing him by the hair and attempting to slam him against hardwood. Charles struggled and managed to twist away, sweeping Erik's legs out from under him as he went.

Erik took Charles down with him. Charles rolled so that he was straddling Erik, then grabbed his tie and punched him. Erik tried to move, but Charles's knees only clamped around his sides harder. Erik was struggling to breathe when, groping behind him for some sort of weapon, he found Raven's umbrella. Erik brought it around in an arc and caught Charles on the side of the head. As the pressure went off his torso Erik pushed himself up and was quite suddenly on top of Charles.

Charles's response was to arch against him, and Erik realized that the last time they were in a position like this, they'd been having sex. That served to absolutely destroy his focus, and with another buck of his hips Charles threw him off, scrambling around to bolt for the living room, where the gun had been kicked.

Erik bolted after him and grabbed him by the arm, turning Charles around to face him. Charles head butted him. Erik responded by stamping on Charles's exposed feet. Charles attempted to dislocate Erik's shoulder, and Erik managed to turn the move into him hurling Charles into a table, sending magazines flying and wood cracking.

Charles got to his feet, swaying just a bit. Erik realized that he was just as lightheaded. He'd never got the chance to eat today - supposedly killing his husband had ruined his appetite, and he hadn't eaten breakfast for fear of poison - and he'd been hit in the head more than once during this fight. Charles was looking just as unsteady, though perhaps more determined.

This fight wasn't going to last much longer. Erik needed that gun. He saw the moment that thought was mirrored in Charles's eyes, and ran for the living room. Charles followed, his breathing ragged and his bare feet stumbling over debris.

Erik dove in over the legos and grabbed the gun. He whirled around to aim at Charles, who froze

.

Erik stared at Charles's face, a thousand memories of laughter and sex and cuddles flashing through his mind.

"I can't kill you. Not again." Erik lowered the gun and closed his eyes, defeat washing over him. In his mind, he apologized to the kids, but not even for them. Not face to face, with Charles looking at him.

"That's fucking wonderful." Charles lunged forward, clawing the gun from Erik's hand. His foot connected solidly with Erik's solar plexus. Erik went down with a thump and Charles kicked him viciously, rolling Erik over in the process. Charles pointed the gun at his forehead. "Now what the hell have you done with my children?"

**A/N: Um, is anyone still reading this? Because if you did it would be great if you dropped a review, even if it's just berating me for not updating this in months. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Chap dedication goes to TW0, because that PM totally made my day and motivated me to finish this quickly. *hugs***

**Also your reviews were ohmygosh so wonderful. I love you all. And I'm so glad that you guys actually thought that fight scene was good, because I suck at writing fight scenes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men or Mr. and Mrs. Smith. But, on a side note, I have finally seen some of Wanted. And by some, I mean the last half where James McAvoy goes batshit for reasons I don't fully understand and shoots everywhere and I was very confused. But the shirtless scene was in the half I watched, and that's really the important thing.**

_Erik's eyes snapped open._

_The bed was cold. Not just empty, as if Charles had gotten up to use the bathroom, but cold, implying that his husband had been gone awhile. Erik tensed and slowly got out of bed. The bed sheets didn't rustle, and his feet made no sound as he negotiated the various creaky floorboards. _

_Erik dropped to a crawl when he passed the mirror (positioned just so that if anyone was in the hallway it would reflect to show them, as it would with people passing by in the bedroom) and straightened only once he was past it, holding a belt that Charles had dropped on the floor the previous night. It was good leather, and would be perfect if he had to quickly kill anyone. _

_He slid along the hallway, sticking close to the walls. The lights were still off. When Erik made it to the staircase, he could see that the kitchen light was on. _

_If Charles woke up and couldn't sleep (and for some reason didn't feel like waking Erik up for sex), he'd read in the living room, not the kitchen. Erik sniffed the air. _

…_he could smell hot chocolate and cheese. Erik stalked up to the kitchen._

"_Oh, really? Tell me, what happened then?"_

"_Then the big guy tried to grab me! And I went" There was some noise that Erik couldn't really understand the meaning of, and he assumed was in fact accompanied by a hand gesture "and got away." _

…_that was the voice of a little girl. Why was there a little girl in his kitchen?_

_Erik poked his head around the doorframe. Charles was leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand, nodding and listening attentively as a tiny blonde girl told a story. She was holding an enormous mug that Erik recognized as actually belonging to him, and had a plate next to her that looked as though it had once held grilled cheese. _

"_Oh, hello." Charles looked up when Erik laid a hand on the frame. The little girl squeaked and scrambled back, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Raven, this is my husband, Erik. Erik, meet Raven."_

"_Charmed." Erik nodded to her. She nodded back. "Charles, could I talk to you for a second?"_

"_If you'll excuse me." Charles smiled at Raven and hurried up to Erik._

"_Charles." Erik took a deep breath. "Why is there a child in the kitchen?"_

"_It's a bit complicated." Charles whispered back._

"_Please tell me you did not kidnap a child." Charles shot him a look._

"_No! I didn't kidnap her! I was up to use the loo and I heard someone moving around in the kitchen, and it was a little girl, and what was I supposed to do?" Charles hissed back. "If I left her alone to get you she would have bolted!"_

"_And now she's eating our food?!" Erik glanced into the kitchen and smiled reassuringly at the girl. She looked to be about six, with dirty blonde hair tied in messy pigtails, and a look about her like she hadn't had a bath in a few weeks. _

"_She was hungry!" Charles smiled in a strained way. "Look, she's really skinny."_

_Erik glanced into the kitchen. "She also looks cold."_

"_How about we let her sleep on the couch tonight and then we call social services in the morning, okay?" Charles muttered. Erik nodded. _

"_Hey." He walked back in and held out a hand. "My name is Erik Xavier. I don't believe we were formally introduced."_

"_Raven Darkholme." She hesitantly shook his hand._

"_Would you like a more comfortable place to sleep?" She shook her head. Erik raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"_

"_Not supposed to sleep in stranger's houses." She mumbled. Erik sighed._

"_Listen. If you were prepared to steal food from us, you can sleep on our couch. I can get you some blankets, and you can wash your face." Raven hesitated. Charles smiled gently and extended a hand._

"_How about I read you stories instead?" _

_That led to Erik and Charles staying up for three hours reading The Hobbit out loud to Raven until she fell asleep draped across Charles's lap, which led to them coaxing Raven to a social worker, which led to the discovery that the little girl had no parents whatsoever, which led to the continuation of the discussion about whether they wanted children, which, after a month, led to redecorating one of their spare bedrooms for their new daughter._

_Then of course, there was Angel a few years later when they decided that it would be best to have more than one child, so they could entertain each other (Charles had smacked Erik's wrist when he compared them to kittens). Then somehow the social workers figured out that Charles was a sucker for sob stories and Erik was a sucker for adorable small children, and they realized that all they had were daughters, and Hank became involved after his parents died, and Erik realized that he and his husband were doomed to having too many children. _

This was not how he had hoped adopting kids would turn out.

"Where are they?" Charles repeated.

"What do you mean?" Erik stared up at him in bewilderment.

"What I _mean_" Charles drove his foot into Erik's stomach, sending Erik crashing into a chair. Erik doubled over, holding a hand over his midriff. "Is _where_" Charles kicked his arm. "_Are_" His foot stomped down on Erik's fingers when Erik tried to cover his shins. "_My children?!_"

"I don't know." Erik wheezed out. He stared up at Charles. "I thought you had them."

"Do you actually think I'm that stupid?" Charles, in a blindingly fast move, yanked Erik's hands behind his back and tied a cord around them. It looked like the charger to Raven's laptop. He snatched a handful of Erik's hair and dragged his head back. "What have you done with them?"

"What do you mean?" Erik croaked. "You got them out before I came home."

"You don't have any right to call this house your home." Charles snarled at him. Erik flinched despite himself. "Oliver is in Raven's room with a cut _throat_, the kids are all vanished, hell, the _dog_ is fucking gone! What did you do with them?"

"The kids are gone?" Something started to boil in Erik's stomach. "Someone _took_ them?"

"It's a bit late for the innocent act." Charles crouched down and yanked another cord, this one from a light fixture, around Erik's feet. "I think you've gone quite far past it."

"Charles, you have to listen to me." Erik's mind raced. If Charles hadn't gotten them out, and of course he hadn't, then who… "I had nothing to do with it."

"I neither know nor care what game you're playing." Charles said coldly. He slid a knife from the back of his pants and whirled it. "Tell me where they are, and I'll make this quick."

"Charles, I would never hurt our kids!"

"Oh, they're _our_ kids now?" Charles laughed incredulously. "I seem to remember something about our relationship boiling down to my being, what was it? An _exquisite target._"

"I lied." Charles spun the knife one more time, and Erik saw his eyes slowly crawling over all of Erik's vital spots. Erik had heard stories about how good the Professor was at extracting information, having the knife turned on him was enough to turn his blood cold. Or it would have, if his kids weren't in danger. "I _lied_, because the Hellfire Club told me that if I didn't kill you, they would kill _both of us_ in front of our children, and I thought it would be easier if you hated me."

"Oh, how likely." Erik threw his head back as the knife sliced into his leg and went straight up, likely shaving bone. "I haven't heard fiction quite that terrible since the last time my daughter tried to get our permission to host a slumber party while we were out of town."

"Charles." Erik panted. "Listen. I love those kids. You _know_ I love those kids."

"You fucking liar." Charles grinned, baring bloody teeth. "I will leave bits and pieces of you all over this apartment, Magneto. And I'll mail your head to the Hellfire Club's front door."

"You won't _find_ them, not without me! And we don't know that it _was_ my people! It might have been yours!" Erik began to wriggle his hands. "Charles, I taught them to ride bikes. I sat up with Alex for three straight days when he had the flu and you had to look after the others. How can you possibly think I would hurt them?"

"Perhaps it has to do with your attempts on my life and the fact that they're gone now." Charles snapped. "Where are they?"

"I don't know!"

"Then who took them?" Charles clenched the knife, eying Erik's jugular. "You realize that if you have no information whatsoever, I'm going to stick this knife into your ear. Not quite far enough to kill you, but enough to leave you alive for hours in excruciating pain. And I'd honestly rather stab you in the throat and be done with it."

"You do still like me then." Erik muttered. Charles punched him in the gut. "_Charles!_"

"Tell. Me. Where. They. Are." Charles followed each enunciation with a slash to the arm, each time only inches away from a major vein. Erik kept twisting his fingers, working on Charles's knot.

"I don't know. I had no idea they were gone." Erik's hands were free. He flipped himself over and grabbed Charles's wrists, forcing the knife down. Charles swore, and Erik shoved the man away, backing off and putting a chair between them. "Listen. If all I wanted to do was kill you, I think it's quite clear that I've had the opportunity."

"I stopped trying to understand what goes on your mind once you started pointing guns at me." Charles wiped blood off his mouth and readjusted his grip on the knife. Erik kept the chair firmly between them.

"Then think on a practicality level. If I knew that the kids were taken, and I was working for the Club, then I would have killed you on the spot a few minutes ago, to protect my team." Charles raised an eyebrow. "I've been married to you for over ten years now. Even if I hadn't been in love with you the entire time, I would have picked up on the fact that you have a few _slightly_ overprotective instincts!"

"Don't you _dare_ bring out the love card." Charles said raggedly.

"Fine. But I don't know where the hell our kids are, and I'm just as invested in getting them back as you are." Erik released the chair and stood back, putting his hands in the air. "See? Not trying to hurt you."

Charles slowly lowered the knife. "Prove it."

"How, exactly, am I supposed to do that?" Erik shook his head. "You _know_ me. We have been living together, eating at the same table, and sleeping together. We were raising kids together, and right now, I want to go and rip the lungs out of whoever the hell took them."

"I don't have time for this." Charles said, running a hand through his hair.

"Then take me at my word and we can try to kill each other later!" Erik said in frustration. "You don't have to trust me." In all honesty, Erik didn't particularly trust Charles at present. "Just work with me until we get them back."

"Fine." Charles dropped the knife and kicked it to Erik. Erik glanced down at it.

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Pick it up and attempt to stab me so I can chloroform you." Charles said with a sigh. Erik blinked.

"You put chloroform in the dishtowels."

"Technically, the container is behind the dog food, but I laced the towels earlier today. Just in case our talk didn't go well." Charles smiled sardonically. "So. Where did your Club stash the kids?"

"They had no idea that I wasn't going to kill you. I didn't realize I couldn't go through with it." Erik said. "It can't have been mine."

"They might have decided to take out an insurance policy on you just in case something like this happened, though." Charles ran a hand through his hair. "My people don't know, Wolverine kept our status to himself."

"So he _says_." Erik said darkly.

"Good point." Charles looked around. "So essentially, we're both hurt, and we have no idea which one of our respective companies kidnapped our children. This is, without a doubt, the worst situation I've ever been in."

In what was a simply unfair move by fate, a tear gas grenade flew through the window at that moment.

"Down!" Charles flung himself to the side, yanking a tablecloth off the table (shattering all of the china which had formerly been there) and pulling it over his face. Erik grabbed the knife off the floor and slashed off his own piece of cloth. "Did you stash any gas masks?"

"Basement!" Erik said. Gunfire rattled out, shattering their windows. Charles swore and bolted for the door to the basement, which apart from being where Erik had hidden almost all of his gear, was reinforced with concrete and relatively safe. There was a thump, and a larger grenade came flying through the window and landed on the table.

Charles and Erik's eyes met, and Erik turned his run into a dive. Charles was closer, and he managed to get into the stairwell before Erik. For just a second, Erik wondered if Charles was going to slam the door in his face.

Charles didn't. Erik dove through the door and Charles shut it behind him. The explosion rocked the house and made the door flex. Erik was enormously grateful that he'd reinforced all of their doors with steel.

"Where are your masks?" Charles asked sharply. Erik hadn't bothered to make the room airtight.

"Down this way." Erik hurried down the stairs. Their basement was mainly used for storage of things they didn't use - there were crates of old toys the children no longer used, ruined furniture. Erik headed in the other direction, where the washing machine and the dryer rested. "Help me lift up the washing machine."

"Of course." Charles said darkly. "No wonder you won't buy a new one."

"Our current machine is _fine!_" Erik snapped as he and Charles wrested it back a few feet. Beneath was a trapdoor secured by a combination padlock. It was made of titanium, and the combination consisted of a thirty digit code, just to be absolutely sure that Hank couldn't find a way to break in.

"Perhaps if you bothered to do your own laundry, you would disagree!" Charles retorted.

"I do my own laundry!" Erik twirled the lock.

"You did laundry _once_, eight years ago." Charles said snappishly. The lock clicked open and Erik opened the trapdoor. The chamber beneath was small, only big enough for seven gas masks and a few guns. Erik handed one to Charles and began rooting for guns.

"Here." He handed Charles a pistol, pulling out a gun for himself. Charles eyed it.

"I get the little one?" Erik shot him an incredulous look. "Fine. I suppose you're the one who needs to compensate."

"God, you're bitchy today." He got to his feet, listening.

"Why I _wonder why?_" Charles hissed. The assassin paused and listened, following Erik's lead. "Whoever is trying to kill us should have come down here by now."

"They're trapping us." Erik muttered. "I don't suppose you dug a tunnel so there would be an alternate way to get out of the basement?"

"I put parachutes in the attic with my guns." Charles responded.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Not helpful."

"Just put your damn gas mask on, we can't stay down here forever." Charles cast his eyes around the basement. "We can assume that they sent in everyone, we're the two most dangerous assassins known…we need a decoy."

"Gotcha." Erik nodded to Raven's old doll collection. "Remember that ugly thing our neighbor knitted for Raven? The one as tall as you are?"

"If only I could forget it." Charles walked over to the boxes and opened it, pulling out the doll almost immediately. It never took much effort to find a doll of that size. It was badly sewn, floppy, vaguely androgynous thing, with yellowy skin and hair made out of stringy brown yarn. Charles pulled off the motheaten dress it had been wearing. "Get one of my cardigans out of the dryer."

They dressed the doll quickly. It looked nothing like Charles, but if they threw it out the door, any half decent shooters would pump it full of bullets before they got a proper look, and they would at least know where said shooters were positioned. They crept up the basement stairs, and Charles yanked open the door, hurling out the doll. It soared through the air and fell to the floor, unscathed.

Charles shot Erik a look that quite clearly said _Well, what do we do now?_

Erik shrugged. He didn't have any larger weapons stored around. Charles glared out at the empty remains of their dining room and pulled his gas mask over his face, cocking the gun. Quite plainly, his husband was going after the people who presumably kidnapped their kids, disadvantageous situation be damned.

Erik felt exactly the same way. He fixed his mask in place and crept out the door after Charles.

The strange thing was that no one was there to shoot. Erik sidled up to a window and peered out. He saw nothing but the neighbor's house, same as it always was.

Charles, crouched by the remains of the kitchen, shook his head. He pulled his mask off his mouth to say "They're gone. I did a sweep of the house."

Erik removed his mask to answer, and sniffed. The air didn't smell like dissipating tear gas. It smelled like…nothing. Which meant that there was another substance in the air covering up the grenade. Erik's gaze swept the dining room, and he saw it. A broken tripwire stretched over the basement door.

"Charles!" Erik took off his gas mask to yell. "Trap!"

"God fucking…" Charles's eyes caught the tripwire and followed it. "Run!"

Erik went for the shattered windows. He vaulted out onto the lawn, feeling another trip wire break across his chest as he fled. Charles followed him, barely a foot behind.

The house exploded before they were ten feet away. Charles and he were both flung forward, both instinctively rolling and covering their heads. The shockwave sent them flying into the hedges and through their neighbor's fence.

Charles was on his feet first, staring at the merry blaze which had been their home. "They set a knockout gas to release when we got out of the basement. The trip wire for the explosives was in case we got out before the gas took effect."

"And they chose a flammable gas." Erik added quietly. Their house was blazing like nothing else. He could hear neighbors gathering and yells from houses down their street, and instinctively moved into the shadows. "Quite a funeral pyre for Oliver."

"We lived there." Charles said. "That was our _home._"

"The kids." Erik said softly. He stared at the remnants of their home. There had been a life in that house. The cracked floorboards from when Alex upended the entire dining room table. The acid stains on the walls from Hank's first chemical mishap, the one where he'd gone into a panic and Charles and Erik spent the next half hour soothing him and convincing him that just because he'd made a mistake didn't mean he was going to be sent away. The enormous shoebox that had every picture Sean had ever hung on the refrigerator. Raven's first dollhouse, the one she'd turned into a fortress, to Erik's delight. The skin marks on the wall from when Angel decided to climb the curtains just to see if she could.

"Don't even have a place to go home to." Charles snarled. "I'm killing every damned member of your Hellfire club."

"I'll help." Erik said. "Ms. Ferguson has the fastest car out of our neighbors."

Their own cars were, Erik was quite sure, far too close to the blast.

"You steal it." Charles said. "I'll meet you two blocks over by the Kisner's house."

"Got it." Erik stole away, past the crowds. The Fergusons wouldn't notice that their car was gone until morning, at the very earliest - the fire might well spread to the houses around, and a search for survivors would occupy the entire neighborhood.

He met a sooty Charles in a few minutes. Charles slid into the car next to him, looking angry.

"I went back to look for evidence." Charles said, in response to Erik's glance. "To make sure that it's your club we're gunning against. And I found out that they set up a secondary line of charges. The house is completely gone."

"Dammit." Erik hit the steering wheel. "The Hellfire club is an hour's drive from here."

"Gives me time to come up with the best methods of torture." Charles said, an ugly tone in his voice. "And I want my knife back."

* * *

><p>"How <em>did<em> you do that?" Erik asked, honestly intrigued. Charles sat back on his haunches and cut the final wire. The side of the elevator shaft was paneled in metal, but just inside the walls were the thousands of wires and bits of hardware that made the base into the fortress it was. The pile of wires and blinking things in Charles's lap suggested that fortress was rather too strong a word.

"I did background training in electronics and cybernetics." Charles said. He shoved the mess back into the wall, a mess of cords and damaged equipment. Erik resisted the desire to make a comment about what an unprofessional clean up job it was. "Shut up. It isn't as though we're going to leave this building intact."

Erik smiled grimly, thinking of the explosives they'd duct taped to the structural poles in the basement. Charles was just now taking out the motion sensors in the elevator shaft, and the security cameras farther up.

"Two minutes until the cleaning lady goes up to the tenth floor." Erik reported. Charles rapidly began screwing the panel back on. Erik batted him aside. "Move."

"No." Charles glared at him.

"I'm good with paneling. We have a bomb guy who needs the help." Erik said. Charles sighed and sat back, careful to not touch any of the walls. He'd taken out the lasers, but one could never be too careful. Erik had the panel back in place when the elevator started moving.

He stood back and held onto the center wire as the elevator car beneath them traveled upwards. No one but a member of the Club itself had the clearance to go above the tenth floor, but they could at least hitch a lift most of the way up by riding the car with the cleaning lady. The final two floors, however, were entirely left to Erik and Charles

The car came to a shuddering stop. Charles nodded at him and began to climb. The maintenance ladder stopped at the tenth floor, and they didn't have any of the proper rappelling equipment (not even the most basic grappling hook), and so were reduced to the suction cups Charles had accidentally left in their hostas.

It made for awkward climbing. The cups were made of clear plastic, and not bigger than Erik's hand. Each movement was preceded by a yank to pry the cup (and not even cups attached to gloves, just grips for one's hands to hold. With both of them there, there weren't enough for foot holds, and the both of them went on arm strength alone) off the wall, and then ramming the cup back on a foot higher. They each took one side of the shaft.

The elevator doors to the twelfth floor were protected by a pass code lock, one not connected to any of electrics below. Erik didn't tap in the code - Shaw would have changed it by now, surely. Instead, he fixed an explosive to the door seal.

The explosion was quiet and contained, and it gave Erik a sense of vindictive pleasure to use explosives designed by Janos. Charles reached out and pried the doors open, and both flattened themselves against the side of the shaft, expecting immediate gunfire.

Nothing happened. Erik looked into the base and saw that it was deserted. The desks were stripped bare, the secret entrance to Shaw's room open with nothing inside but the enormous conference table. That must have been too much trouble to remove.

"Fuck." Charles muttered.

"Seconded."

"At least we know for sure it was the Hellfire Club." Charles sounded just the slightest bit relieved. He quite clearly hadn't wanted to believe that Logan would sell him out. Charles didn't step into the office. "How likely is it that they've got it rigged?"

"Definitely rigged." Erik cast his eyes over the empty space. There were no papers left behind, no leads…of course not, Emma would have been in charge of this, and Emma was far too smart to make such an obvious mistake. "Probably infra red beams."

"I wish we'd brought gas." Charles muttered. "Where would they have taken them?"

"Nowhere I could get to." Erik responded. He swore. "They planned this."

"What possible gain…" Charles shook his head, eyes weary. "What possible gain could they gather from taking a five children who were never a part of this world? When they thought you were going to kill me anyway?"

"I have no idea." Erik said wearily. "But there are no leads here, and walking into that is a deathtrap."

"The Guild might know." Charles finally said. "We do keep tabs on the Club, as much as we can, and if they're transporting a load as big as five kids anywhere, it might have gone on record."

"Yes, ask the Guild to help you and your assassin husband to reclaim five children they don't care about from a Club that stretches across eight continents and has infinite resources at hand." Erik deadpanned. "That will go swimmingly."

"What other options do we have?" Charles said angrily. "I won't mention you."

"I'm not sitting this out." Erik said, furious at the thought. "They're my _kids_, I'm not sitting on the sidelines while a bunch of morons from the Guild track them down!"

"Speaking a moron from the Guild…" Charles almost smiled, albeit with a strain. "It is rather reassuring to hear you say that. But it doesn't change the fact that you rank as our number one threat."

"Then…tell them I'm on their side now." Erik said quickly. "I swap all my information about the Hellfire Club in exchange for their help, I do whatever they tell me, as long as they give us what we need to know."

"A trade." Charles mused. "That may work. Stryker is many things, but he isn't stupid enough to pass up that sort of chance. Come on."

They started back down the elevator shaft.

* * *

><p>"Gone." Charles said disbelievingly. He stared around the interior of Stony Brook. "They're all gone."<p>

"The Guild quit town too?" Erik took a deep breath. Shit. This was bad. The Guild was their only link to the Hellfire Club, and if they didn't have that link, they had _nothing_. No resources, no contacts, just a wreck of a house and five missing children.

"Those fuckers collaborated." Charles breathed.

"Yes, but why take the kids?" Erik's fingers were twitching on his gun. "They tried to kill us together, fine, they know we're dangerous, but why kidnap the _kids?_"

There was a noise from outside, like a motorbike. Charles turned, his eyes narrowing.

"Let's find out."

Oh, yes. They had rage on their side, didn't they.

Charles stormed out of the deserted building. Outside was the operative Erik had seen with Charles before, Logan, as he recalled, in leather and jeans, just getting off his bike. Charles's uppercut took him across the jaw, and in another second he was on the ground, Charles pointing a gun at his forehead.

"Where are they?" Charles's words were venomous.

"I don't know." Logan said. He stared up at them both, and it was impressive how little fear he showed. "I had no idea this was going on."

"What, precisely, is going on?" Erik drew his gun and pointed it at Logan's heart. He was sure that Charles's wouldn't miss, when he did shoot, but he wanted the satisfaction of knowing that one of his bullets had lodged in Logan's body.

"The kidnapping." Logan said, keeping his eyes fixed on their faces. Erik did however, notice a certain pallor in his face. "I came in late today, and I saw them dragging five kids into a van. Wasn't hard to figure out who they belonged to. Realized you both had a trace on you, went to your house to tell you, found it burned down, and came back here."

"_Dragging?"_ Charles said furiously. "And you didn't think to stop them?"

"I don't like the prospect of turning a gun on agents when there's kids in the crossfire, so sue me!" Logan said angrily. "Sides, what was I supposed to do with them? This place was populated this afternoon!"

"This afternoon!?" Erik said. "And you didn't get us until now?"

"I didn't know where you lived." Logan said, flashing Erik a smile that showed more teeth than friendliness. "I had to track you down."

"You didn't tell them about Erik?" Charles asked.

"I don't break promises." Logan glared up at them. "And I came back to help you two."

"Why?" Erik asked harshly.

"Because I'm not on board with going after _kids._" Logan said. "Sides, I owe Chuck a few favors."

"Oh." Charles lowered his gun. "Do you know where they took them?"

"No idea." Logan levered himself up. "But I've been stealing files from the Guild for the past five years, and half of them are classified information about the Hellfire Club. We've got a place to start."

"Right." Erik muttered. He thought of their kids. "So, we're taking on two different world class assassination organizations, we've got minimal resources, and our biggest ally is a shady assassin. What's the plan?"

"We kill them all." Charles smiled at him with murder in his eyes, and Erik almost pitied Stryker and Shaw.

But not really.

**A/N: Yeah, I was trying to get this revised in time for tuesgay, but nope! Oh well. Please review? **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I have made a discovery. That discovery is that NOTHING motivates me to write like the knowledge that I ought to be doing my homework. Therefore…you have a new chapter, and I should be preparing to write a 45 minute timed essay about economics/politics/religion in colonial America and studying Environmental Science. **

**Also: dedicated to Missy The Least, because my phone is broken so I can't call you and talk to you but I really want to please take this chapter as an apology for my incompetent phone. (Ps: Y'all should check out her writing, it's awesome.)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own X-Men, don't own Mr. and Mrs. Smith.**

The van was bumping it's way over bad pavement, her wrists were tied, and Raven was having a hard time not crying.

She was trying to concentrate on the fact that she was still with her siblings. Raven couldn't see them properly - there was some sort of sack on her head, which she found _terrifying _because Raven read somewhere that little kids could be suffocated by having bags on their heads, and God, that wasn't what she needed to think about now, but nothing else was coming to mind. She could hear Sean crying quietly, and Hank was leaning against one of her sides and Angel was on her other side. And she was almost certainly sure that Alex was tied by Sean.

So they were together.

She knew that Oliver was dead. Raven closed her eyes and tried to imagine that this was a dream, and she had fallen asleep over her homework. Things had been _normal_ just a few hours ago. Oliver had been listening to Hank worriedly explain how worried he was about their Dads, Sean and Alex were playing with their stupid plastic dinosaurs, Angel was reading, and Raven was sprawled over her desk drooling on a textbook, and Oliver would wake her up with a snacks soon.

But that had been hours ago, and since then she had looked up from the quadratic equation to see that blood was spreading over Oliver's shirt, and Sean was screaming. And a second after that men and women dressed all in black had burst through the windows and shoved them into the back of a car, and had cuff snapped on their wrists and ropes wrapped around their shins and hoods yanked over their heads.

Nobody had taken the hood off her, but she'd managed to work her gag off herself. Not that it did much good. They were in some sort of van, no one was going to come rescue her if she cried for help.

And she was very, very, scared. Sean and Alex weren't answering when she called to them, not even with the muffled grunts she got from Angel and Hank, and Raven just didn't know what to _do_ because God, she'd seen movies but Raven didn't know kung fu and she didn't have a gun and she couldn't think of a clever escape plan because whenever she did all she could think of was the fact that she had a bunch of siblings who were even younger than she was that she had to keep safe and she didn't even know who kidnapped them or _why_ anyone would want them.

Raven took another deep breath (her head was beginning to swim again) and tried for the hundreth time to move her wrists. They were tied to a metal bar, and all that happened when Raven pulled was pain. Her whole body hurt. None of the people who hauled her into the van and tied her down had been gentle.

_Oh God, what if this is some kind of, of, child slavery thing and we were just there, what if they're taking us to have our organs harvested or for prostitution oh God oh God we've got to get out of here._

For a second pure panic rose, and then Raven slumped back against the wall of the van, trembling. She could feel Angel shaking next to her too, and pressed her body as far towards her sister as she could. Angel leaned into her.

"Raven?" Angel's voice was scratchy. Raven realized that she hadn't had a drink in hours. She hadn't eaten either, and she was feeling faint.

"I'm here." Raven whispered back. She felt something stir on her other side, and realized it was Hank, trying to wriggle out of his cuffs. "You're just going to cut your wrists, they're too tight."

Raven realized with a sick feeling that Hank was _nine_ and that meant someone designed these cuffs just to hold little kids.

"I think we're going North." He whispered.

Raven tried to think of what her parents would say.

Her parents. She clung to that thought. Her Dads had gone out to dinner to discuss something important, and that had scared Hank and Alex but not _her_ because she knew that there was _nothing_ as immovable as her Dads' marriage, just because they were fighting didn't mean they weren't coming home together, and when they got home their kids wouldn't be there. And then they would come to get them.

"How do you know?" Was all Raven managed.

"There's only one major highway that they could reach from the city without going by the harbor. I didn't smell the harbor, but we're on a highway. And that road goes North." Hank sounded miserable. Raven never appreciated how smart he was, not when he was doing goofy lab experiments in their house, but now his brain was whizzing away even when they were being kidnapped and Raven couldn't have been more grateful.

"You're really smart." Raven whispered. She couldn't seem to articulate anything else.

"What's going _on?_" Angel said, whimpering. "Who are these people?"

"I don't know." Raven swallowed. She desperately wanted a drink. "But our Dads are coming for us. They probably got home and called the cops, and the cops are coming after us _right now._ Any second and we'll hear sirens and Daddy will be here, and Father…"

Raven was glad she couldn't see anything. That meant none of the others could tell she had started to cry just at the thought of having their parents come rescue them.

"They have to be hours away." Hank said.

"They'll come get us." Raven said, as soothingly as she possibly could when she was terrified. _Oh god please, please, let them come rescue us._

* * *

><p>"Dammit.<p>

"What now?" Erik snapped. He resented the fact that they even had to take this pit stop, and blamed it on the fact that the car they had stolen had been manufactured sometime in the stone age. And on the fact that of all the places to disappear into, Logan chose the backwoods of Maine.

"I can't get into the Hellfire system, or the Guild database." Logan swore again. "They changed the passwords."

"You were relying on _passwords_?" Erik asked incredulously. The two of them were sitting in the horrible car, Erik in the back seat cleaning his guns, and Logan attempting to hack plans.

"They changed the encryptions and revamped the firewalls, but since we're supposed to be on some kinda tight schedule, I shortened the phrase." Logan glared at him. "And the wifi sucks."

Erik glared back at him, and was in the process of composing a properly pissy retort (one including the fact that _Logan_ was the one who drove them a hundred miles through backwoods to lose any pursuers they might have had, and that he'd picked the damn gas station too, and whether he expected anything else), when a cup of hot coffee was shoved into his hand.

He took a sip automatically. The sugar-coffee ratio was perfect, and he shot Charles, who had just slid into the back of the stolen car with his own coffee, a slightly smug look. Charles glared at him.

"I ordered on autopilot, and by the time I noticed, I had already paid." His husband took a long draught of his own coffee. "Logan, what have we got?"

"They changed the codes." Logan reported grimly. Charles closed his eyes for a second. "I can keep trying, but it's going to take some time."

"What about your brother?"

"Vic's in Mongolia, and this is out of his clearance level." Logan said grimly.

"Damn." Charles opened his eyes and shot Erik a cold look. "Fine. Process of elimination then. The Guild has bases all over the world that are fit to safely house a group of hostages."

"Same with Hellfire club." Erik paused. "Not Antarctica, takes too long to get there."

"China and Russia are both out too then. Trips that long involve too many factors, there's far too much chance of something going wrong." Charles said. He settled into a crosslegged position, coffee cup balanced on one knee. "Japan has the best concealed weaponry, but same distance problem."

"They're just kids." Logan pointed out. "Not exactly hard to transport."

Charles and Erik locked eyes, both of their mouths twisting up in the same wry expression.

"You don't have any children, Logan." Charles said dryly. "I assure you. They're problematic factors."

"Not hard to think of drugs that'd keep em down." Logan said bluntly. Charles's eyes went cold, and Erik was suddenly very conscious of the gun balanced on his thigh. The logic was strong. Sure, several of the potent drugs Emma kept on her person could cause enormous brain damage, but Erik was no longer assuming his former coworkers had any kind of decency.

"We assume that they aren't drugged." Erik said finally, once he was sure that he could talk without flying into a rage. "And we assume that our employers know we're coming after them. They'd get them to a safe house as quickly as possible."

"Not the Middle East. We stirred up too much trouble there last month, Guild is keeping a very low profile everywhere East of the Mediterranean." Charles thought. "And Egypt is extraordinarily not hospitable to us since the snakehead affair."

"Hellfire Club is on excellent terms with several dictators throughout that area. And there are a number of wannabe warlords falling all over themselves to gain Hellfire club backing." Erik thought. "Only two have troops hardened enough to guard kids without batting an eye."

"Guild has a few strongholds in Canada that'd do the trick." Logan said darkly. "None of them are exactly hospitable places for an extended stay."

"They can't be planning to keep them there for very long." Charles said flatly. "There is absolutely no gain that can be gotten from wasting personnel guarding children, and it's a volatile situation just having five together."

"Could be split up." Logan muttered. He raised his hands off the keyboard when Charles threw him an angry look. "Just a thought!"

"No, that's how I'd do it." Erik said honestly. "Hostages can't be put together, that's _basic_ training."

"Half of them are under ten. None of them will be plotting escape." Charles said. But he took another long sip of coffee, and there was a coldly calculating look in his eye. "They should have the funds…oh, _damn_."

"What?" Erik asked sharply.

"They might be keeping them on the road." Charles slammed a hand against the seat. "They stay on the move until they think we've been taken out of the bargain, just to keep us running after them instead of protecting ourselves. Which of course we have to do."

"Goddamn." Erik sighed. "We essentially have no location, half the world as possibility, and the best killers in the world on our asses."

"Why thank you darling, stating the obvious is so extraordinarily helpful." Charles shot him a poisonous look.

"Agents." Logan said suddenly.

"I _think_ Erik already made the point - " Charles began, and Logan hit the gas. Erik and Charles lurched in their seats, and hot coffee slopped over Erik's turtleneck. Charles managed to spare a moment to look pleased with that, and Erik shot him a glare. "Where?"

"Left side, Chevrolet and matching black fords." Logan yelled, and hit the brakes. Everything in the car shifted, and Erik winced when he heard the laptop hit the floor with a crash.

Erik scrambled onto his knees and looked out the back windows. "Don't forget the Volkswagen and the minivan."

Somewhere in him, Erik was offended at the fact that minivans were being used for purposes so against family values.

He drew his gun, and saw Charles doing the same, crouching on the seat and balancing himself with one arm. Erik was about to say something along the lines of "good luck" when Charles aimed and fired four precise shots. One blew out each tire of the minivan and it skidded, clearly out of control. That didn't deter the shooter hanging out the window from shooting, and the rattle of machine gunfire shook the Maine woods.

Logan swerved wildly, and Erik swore as he lost his mark on the shooter from the van, which was somehow still coming after them. "Charles, do you think you could perhaps shoot something helpful!?"

"Well _excuse_ me!" Charles snarled. "The windows here are _crap_, maybe you should have found us a car without all of these blind spots!"

"I didn't pick the damn car!" Erik shot at one of the outlying cars and clipped the arm of someone leaning out the window with what looked like a military issue gun.

"You were there weren't you?!" Charles ducked down, and another spray of bullets came at them. This time, Logan veering off the road and onto the grassy way beside it wasn't effective, and all the windows shattered, sending shards of glass raining down on Erik and Charles. "Not even bulletproof!"

"Most cars on the street aren't!" Erik retorted. "Isn't there some way to open the back?"

"It's a hatchback!" Logan roared from the front seat, where he was bouncing up and down as they drove over the verge. Of course he didn't bother with a seatbelt. "Just a sec, I'm going to try for the highway!"

"The highway?!" Charles crawled over the seats into the open space in the back of the car, fumbling with the lock. Erik kept shooting at the cars behind them, trying to remember the last time he had _this_ many people on his tail. As he recalled, it had been when he was leading the footmen of a drug cartel ring into a pit lined with explosives, and he'd had backup.

"It's better for evasive driving!" Logan spun the wheel and they lurched back to the road. Erik could feel the moment when Logan floored the car, and he heard Charles's body slam into one of the sides. "Can't you get the back open so you can return your damn fire?!"

"It's locked!" Charles called back. Erik rolled his eyes and began rapidly folding down the seats between him and Charles. Charles shot him a nasty look as Erik, being a practical person with far too much experience in guns and bad cars, shot out the lock.

The back hatch flew open. Charles hit the floor and immediately began firing on the closest car. Erik joined him.

"Fuck!" That was one of those words Erik never liked to hear his driver use. "You two busy?"

"Just a bit!" Charles yelled back, rolling as the car swerved yet again, this time veering over the yellow line and into the opposite line. Thank God there were no other cards around.

"The cars are bullet proof!" Erik called to Charles, who was shooting from on his back. The multiple bullets both of them had sent to the windshields of the cars hadn't even caused cracks. "And what the hell happened?"

"There's a blockade in front of the exit!" Logan shouted back. "I'm going to take us off the road, unless you've got some handy explosives!"

"Off the road?!" Erik fired at the underside of one of the cars. The only effect was a few sparks, and Erik let out a frustrated snarl.

"Again with the stating of the obvious." Charles said darkly. He moved into a crouch and fired three precise rounds. They cracked off the sides of the cars, but didn't seem to cause much damage.

"We're going to have company soon." Erik warned. At present, there was a solid barrier of pines on each side of the road, and no way for Logan to go off road without crashing, and the agents were moving up on them.

"Couldn't have sprung for a faster car." Charles muttered.

"Could you focus on something else?" Erik sent another bullet at a gunman hanging out of a window. It only clipped him, but Erik found great satisfaction in the way the man's body flopped as he fell out the window and was run over.

"I'm out of ammo." Charles said flatly. He tossed his gun into the road and pulled a knife out of his pants.

"You always did think of the _best_ things to do while the neighbors were over." Erik watched as one of the cars approached, and sent a bullet into the windshield close range. This time, a spider web of cracks appeared, and he fired another, shattering it altogether. Erik grinned. The driver was close enough for Erik to catch the queasy expression on his face just before the man's brains were blown out.

The man lost control when the bullet hit his forehead, and the car spun. It hit another car, and Erik felt another surge of satisfaction when they blew up on impact, sending a wave of heat and force out that was disproportionate to the size of the cars. There must have been some sort of bomb in the trunks.

"Will you two quit that?" Logan yelled, as he tried to keep their own car from similar fishtailing.

"No." Erik dropped to one knee. "I'm out."

"Oh, fabulous." Charles muttered.

"We're going to hit road in another mile!" Logan shouted. "Well, a logged section, anyway."

"A _mile?_" Charles turned away from the cars following them and crawled into the front seat. "Give me your gun!"

"No!"

"And keep your hands on the wheel, it's safer that way." Erik heard Logan swear, and the car jerked. Charles clambered over the seats again with a pistol in one hand. Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Where was that?"

"His pants, like most guns."

"Do we really need his presence to survive this?" Erik asked sharply.

"Can whatever discussion you two are having wait?" Logan asked from the front.

"Actually, yes, seeing as our bank accounts are frozen, and unless you plan to waste valuable time on grand theft…" Charles fired at the closest car - their pursuers had been much delayed by the explosion in their path - and glanced at the compartments on the sides of the doors. "All we have to eat are peanuts."

"I'm not actually allergic to peanuts." Erik said, keeping his eyes on the cars. "Car at eleven o clock."

"I see it, and what the hell do you mean you're not allergic to peanuts?"

"I was just working a toxin out of my system." Erik grimaced as the car lurched yet again.

"So you could have eaten my goulash?" Charles asked incredulously.

"No. I hate goulash." Erik groped for the bulky first aid kit stocked by the driver's seat. He yanked it out and hurled it out, throwing the case directly beneath the front wheel of another of the agent's cars. The car flipped.

"Fine." Charles let out an irritated breath. "I was never in the peace core."

"_What?_"

"Can you two save this for another time?" Logan said from the front.

"Then all of those excellent stories about teaching soccer to third world people - "

"It's _football_, for the five thousandth fucking time!"

"I should tell you I've been married three times. Car coming up on the left."

"Excuse me?" Charles took his eyes off the road behind them.

"It was for a case!"

"Names. Social security numbers."

"Emma was one of them. We had to pose as a couple for a case."

Charles let loose another bullet. "Logan! When we find the Hellfire club, I call the bitch."

"Could you two _please_ just aim?" Logan sounded almost pained.

"I'm out of bullets." Charles sounded disgusted. "And you should know that I've been posing as a prostitute regularly for infiltration reasons."

"You did _what_?" Logan hit the brakes, and Erik and Charles were both thrown back against the seats. Erik lunged for a seatbelt and clutched it, failing to get to his feet.

"Get ready!" Logan yelled back. Erik was about to ask what they were getting ready for when the engine revved, and the entire car began to _shake_. Erik swore as they, along with everything else in the back, began to slide about. It felt as though the entire car was about to come apart.

Well. It looked as though Logan had found his back road. How incredibly wonderful.

Charles was thrown across Erik's lap. He glared up at Erik as the car made a sharp turn, and he was pushed closer. "Say. Nothing."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Erik lied. The car moved again, and he heard Logan swear. "What?"

"There's no bridge."

"What?" Charles tried to get up, and the car swung around again. "Logan, your bloody driving - "

"You try getting through a bunch of tree stumps, see how the hell it goes! And they blew up the bridge!"

"Then where the hell are we…" Erik groaned.

"Be ready to jump." Logan called, and Erik felt the familiar swooping feeling in his stomach that meant he no longer had his feet on solid ground. He felt Charles grab his hand - likely out of reflex - and jump.

An instant later, they both hit water. Erik surfaced first with a gasp, conscious of the fact that a current was dragging him downstream and that Charles was no longer holding onto him.

"Charles!" Erik craned his head around, trying to resist the pull of the current. The river was full of debris; tree trunks floated past him, or were locked against the massive rocks, and bits of grass and weeds went by at alarming speeds. More disconcerting was that Erik, despite kicking for it, couldn't feel any ground under his feet.

He was tall. That was a bad sign.

"Charles!" He shouted again, still craning around. He saw a glimpse of brown and for a second hoped, but it was Logan. Logan took an enormous gulp of air and went back under, to keep his head from being knocked against a tree trunk.

Erik was not so wise, and his head smacked into a log while he was looking upstream. He went under and felt water rushing around his ears. Erik kicked up, just barely getting his mouth above water only for another branch to scrape against his back.

Fingers bunched in the back of his turtleneck, and in another second an arm was wrapped around his waist. Charles pulled Erik up, panting for breath. He immediately released him and backpaddled, scowling.

"Aim for the rock by the oak!" Charles spluttered to him, coughing. Erik looked forward - this time, he was in time to kick off a rock and avoid being enveloped by a sticky looking pine bough - and spotted what Charles was talking about. It was a huge grey rock that looked like a glacial deposit, and it was leaning against the only oak in the pines.

Erik struck out for it, wishing that he'd opted for more water expeditions. The last time he'd been in the water had been a month ago, when Sean demanded that Erik play water-tag with the kids. That memory brought another surge of heat to Erik's limbs, and a fresh flush of adrenaline got him to the other side of the river.

Then it was just a matter of keeping himself above the water. Erik hated rivers in New England with a fiery passion, which was in fact helpful given the icy temperature of the water.

"That was the worst long distance swim I have ever had to do." Erik said flatly, as he hauled himself out of the water and onto the massive rock, several minutes later. He reached out a hand to pull Charles up.

Charles pulled himself up, avoiding looking at Erik's hand.

"Didn't you ever swim the Amazon?" He asked.

"Yes, and then I had a harpoon." Erik said snappily. Logan climbed up onto the rock next to them, panting.

"Jesus H. Christ, I am never doing anything with anyone married ever again." Logan groaned as he said it, stripping out of his leather jacket.

"It'll probably be a moot point soon." Erik said coldly. He began unlacing his shoes, and felt Charles shuck off his cardigan.

"That truck had our only tech in it. And our weaponry." Charles said, sounding the most defeated he had yet.

Erik got up and began to shake some of the water of his jacket. "We'll manage."

"What's with your ass?" He stared down at Charles, who continued to scrutinize him. "It looks wrong."

"I can't believe you have that much knowledge of what his butt looks like." Logan muttered.

"Marriage." Charles deadpanned. "Been staring at the same backside for years, it rather burns itself into the memory. So?"

"Spare drives." Erik said. He reached down and wiggled, undoing the zippers on the inside pockets (sewing interior pockets that were both waterproof and leadlined into everyone's pants had been Azazel's idea. Erik was still undecided as to whether it was creative genius or insanity.) and pulling out the contents. "I put one in the laptop to copy the files that Logan did manage to get. Just in case."

Charles smiled slightly. Logan rolled his eyes, looking a bit ruffled over the fact that Erik managed to steal files with him noticing. Erik sat back down and glanced over the tiny flash drive - it was still in perfect condition. So they still had _something_ to go on.

"Hey, Erik." He looked up, and a hand came up out of reflex as Charles tossed something to him.

He blinked down at his hand, which was clutching a waterlogged packet of peanuts.

"I know about your appetite." Charles said. Erik turned away, unable to not smile just a bit.

**A/N: P!nk's new album had something to do with this, I'm sure of it. **

**Also, I always pictured the imaginary city/town where Charles and Erik live to be somewhere in New England (because I live in New England and did you not know that Boston is the center of the universe? Dur.), so they drive off to Maine because Logan knows the terrain and because Maine roads are the worst. Seriously, there is a serious lack of gps. **

**Review? Please?**


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